Sweet

Gifted loops gentle
as a lake rising to greet you.
Kiss your toes in the dark
so the medicinal lamp light
lowers softly on your crown.
Another word for that is "magic."
I could forget what comes after,
the stillness shattered by
movement, the painful aftereffects
littering the floor. A hat on the bed
is a real no-no. Hold your head
in a perch, so the trucks are muffled
with your ear against my chest.
I can think of so much I don't care
about anymore, but I won't.
Thick as a rope tugging the dawn
straight into chaos. But I won't
go there. I'll be here.