He was a face I'd seen in a dream
A face with no borders
Cherokee cheekbones, Spanish blue irises
Hair black as volcano rock
A scar along his left eye
His eyes were as welcoming as windows open to summer
White curtains fluttering
From day one
I looked for ways to graft
a piece of myself onto him
Our first house was a forest of flea market furniture
He gives me real laughter
"Happy"-
the word is too homely to describe us
A collision of lips and tongues
echoing in me
The kind of love that pulls all of life in one direction
Painting the caves of one another's flesh
We are two hands clasped in a prayer
of gratitude to the universe
Loving a tiny person into being
A child sprouted like a plant
From a cliping of one's own flesh