Emma and me, outside the party, outside the world.
The night is warm in the first of September, clear, open.
We talk as if we could still walk among the stars, like children.
We talk as if the world never fell, and paradise was still here.
She lays her head upon my shoulder, and I kiss her head.
Her hand holds mine, and we are warm, clean, like Eden.
She turns up her face, and I softly kiss her lips, taste the apple.
Her hand on my face, such sweetness became the fall, forever.
The sky is filled with stars, and the moon moves wild tides.
She hung her name somewhere in Andromeda, for me to find.
Find her name, find the spell dream and desire and lust have cast,
as loud laughter and thumping music betray a perfect night.
A simple, down at heel farmhouse, up in the Appalachian hills.
Our little world, our little paradise, just you and I, and our dreams.
We work the garden together in the bright of day, making our way.
And at night we sit and talk on the porch steps, hold each other tight.
Preserved foods and salted meat, our stores for the winter on it’s way.
The words we write, the words we read, the things we conjure in our hearts.
Sunday at the river, we swim nude together, free and innocent, without shame.
As we drift to sleep together at night, you place my hand on your belly,
whisper about the one more thing we could ask for, the most precious gamble.
Our little garden, our little paradise, sweetness after the fall, but another will come.
The world will find us, and this innocent place will be lost, and our sweetest selves.
Sunday clothes, white blouse, woolen skirt, Mary Jane shoes,
honeyed hair hanging down, around your neck a silken bow.
You wait to walk with me to church, as morning chill blows,
the seeds of paradise in the afternoon we carefully sow.
Parents are following later, we walk alone the ruttend lane,
carefully to keep our shoes out of the water and the mud.
Warm and sweet I feel, yet taught for this The Savior was slain,
and that our sweetness still calls for the tide of his blood.
You take my hand in yours, warm yet calloused, harsh like silk.
Our secret thing, our shared sin, to touch while out of sight.
God watches, but will he let it go, for this is our soul’s milk
and I feel so holy and sure, when she holds my hand so tight.
The little wooden church, white against the grey and blue sky.
The stonewall separates us from God, the sacred from the profane.
You let go my hand. You smile at me secretly. We are so sly!
I see only beauty and love in you, but God said there is always a stain.
We sit down on a pew together, as the sun pushes away the clouds.
The dim sanctuary becomes as honeyed as your long, silky hair.
The glow and light of the sacred words the holy books enshroud.
As church begins, we sing the hymns, our loving hearts a pure prayer.
The summer is turning gold and red.
There is a chill in the air.
The waters we walk by are silver, and still.
His hand is so warm in mine.
The day is moving towards night.
A nice little place by the sea.
Everyone’s gone home for the year.
A dinner by the eternally crashing sea.
We stay the night together, despite what’s taught.
I wish I could stay forever in his arms.
Morning, treacherous as always, has come.
In his uniform, with his bag, I don’t want to let go.
He’s been called and he must go.
One last kiss, and then he’s on the train for the front.
I weep quietly, for the boy I knew won’t come back.
The Drive-In is closed for the season, or forever,
beneath a grey and cloudless sky without a moon.
We sit in my car that goes nowhere, never will again,
and make up our own movies, ones where we are angels.
The child sleeps in the backseat, innocent of this death,
the death in our skins and hearts and the world we loved.
I take her hand in mine, the sky without a care about us,
as we wait for otherworldly light to shine in a lightless dark.
The water in the bottle is hot and there’s no ice anymore.
She is feverish and I am too and we just dream of being angels.
The child is asleep, and at peace and innocent of this world.
I kiss my girlfriend. She’s been my wife if the world hadn’t broken.
I kiss her and I can taste the sun and the stars and what love was once.
Then the light comes and we sit back in the buckets seats.
The light we foreswore takes up the child, to live in anotehr world.
But the seed is in all flesh, innocent or corrupt, holy or infernal.
That world will break like this one and everyone before it.
It never ends, and we cannot escape, no other urge but demiurge.
No other place but home, no other heart but ours, no other sun at all.
Where are you tonight, sweetheart?
Are you safe? Are you warm? Is it quiet?
Alone in the woods, I look up at the stars
and try not to cry, for the tears not to come.
The air is getting cold, Autumn is leaving
and winter is on it’s way, and I am alone.
The world crumbled, civilization fell again,
and I was far from you when it all burned.
Where are you tonight, sweetheart?
Are you among the dead? Are you living?
Are you in the arms of another, thinking I’m lost?
I will be happy if you are, if it means you’re loved,
loved and safe and someone to face this death with.
I was in Connecticut, you were in Tennessee,
and I can’t make it back to find you, to hold you,
to kiss you and feel the solidness of you close.
Where are you tonight, sweetheart?
I am alone, knowing death can come quickly
and the winter is coming, and we’ve burned it all.
I still dream of you, as I look up at the stars,
and the tears come, and the loneliness,
the emptiness of losing you, and my whole world.
Oh, where are you tonight, sweetheart?
Happy child, in the gold field that is the forest and the sun and the light,
so care free, awwing at the buzzing life and wild creatures, and the day
so filled with joy you can’t know what is yet to come, when it all fades.
Her kiss, sitting in the tall golden grass, you fingers through her silky hair,
the taste of strawberries in her lip gloss, the smell of her warm skin so close.
Hearts beat as one, only once, and it’s sweetness scars in incinderay joyfulness.
And now, alone in this room, with all of it gone and only stardust to remember,
to light the places where The Garden once grew so tall and mighty and perfect,
and you were a happy child, innocent and free, and was not like this.
Fireworks explode, candy reds, electric blues, noontime whites.
Sitting in the swings, rocking ourselves and holding hands,
we’re like children again, awed by noise and bright colors.
Mid Summer, and it’s been such a magnificent day together.
The fires in your eyes, the supernovas of earthbound stars.
The burning light that falls as ashes to the earth, to us below.
Summer so bright, so free, and slipping away forever into darkness.
I squeeze your hand, and you smile wide, not looking away from fire.
Just us in the park, everyone esle closer to the show, no eyes on us.
The last of the show, as it all blows up big, the explosions of a dream.
The stars wait patiently for these lowborn lights to fade and go.
I wait patiently to walk you home, hand in hand, hoping for a kiss.
Ellen baby, I push you on the swing, gentle, as the night falls.
A soft blue twilight, the first stars showing us their faces.
Summer’s end, but it’s to jobs, not school for us, all grown up.
We’ve been bound to each other, in spirit, and flesh, but what now?
You laugh as I tell you a joke, and that sound still soothes me to love.
The twilight fades to dusk, and you look up at the sky, at blossoming stars.
Summer’s end, and we’re on our own now, but will we walk that path together.
My love, my friend, where do we go as winter falls, as our world changes forever?
You get up from the swing, and take my hand, and we walk across the park.
Now it is night, and there are so many stars shedding their petals of light.
Summer’s end, and I imagine those petals as a path to the altar, for us to wed.
What are you thinking, my love? Will you be my wife when winter comes?
We lay in bed together, naked, the windows open,
a slight breeze to stir the hot, oppresive August air.
She is smiling, running her fingers in my hair, tender.
I’m shaking, excited, scared. She takes my hands in hers.
“There is nothing between us. We are together and one.”
She puts my hands on her small, firm breasts, kisses me.
She pulls me tightly to her, and I lose my breath in the touch.
We make love, softly and carefully, two flesh made one soul.
The sun bright, the wind quiet, the air stiffling, the dream whole.
Afterwards, her head resting on m arm and chest, my head on hers
she sings a song, sacred in it’s brokenness, it sorrow and hope.
My heart still races, her breath still wild and ragged.
We are one, there is nothing here between us, in this hothouse room
and our vulnerablity in the light and in love, in the summer blooms.
I kiss her head, and sing with her, a hymn of the left behind and pure,
a hymn of a more ancient and whispering god, of love for love, for kindness.