Dear Me, With Warning

I give the mother pushing her infant

Time to turn around and see herself.

She is my mother,

It is my sight,

I take my time.

I give the youth walking in tunnels

Patience and distraction

To forget the dark,

To see some light,

To love the dark.

I'll give the worn and numb couple

The space to die in their peace.

Their wrinkles begrudge me my pride,

Their handicaps refuse all but help,

Their time is too heavy to feel.

And then, I hold my lover close

And give him no space.

I push into him,

I pull him out,

I could pretend forever.

And then, I ask my friend to carry me.

He gives in.  To me, to fear.

I watch my footprints disappear.

I watch my love disappear.

I could pretend forever. 

I give away -- nothing.

My conclusions in their clean, wrapped tightness,

My back and bones and breath,

My open wrists; I'd spill into open mouths.

Nothing overflows that isn't full,

If doubled eyes see only out and away,

If body cringes when it touches itself.

Where is my friend?  My lover?  My angel?

My fear:  You have already been here,

Beside me, against me, in and through me. 

And I have thrown you away.

My terror:  You will never come again.

I should push this, here and just there, away.

Cut off my hair,

Rip off my jewelry,

Carve out my eyes.

I should tear off my clothes,

My scales,

My over-packed luggage

For trips I never intended to take,

Adventures I thought I should make,

Poems I was told to create,

Mountains climbed that would make me great.

I should throw you away.

I give away -- nothing.

Because I could die forever.