SOME WORD I LOVE IS YES
It happens a lot that I forget my name
I mean anchor no anger I mean it’s coming soon—
the choice to be silent or a blues song. You are a song
which does not mention any hometown.
With an owl tattooed on one arm,
an elk around the other, I want to kiss you
but I’m already dreaming
an unripe melon between my legs.
May I keep touching you? Every morning
the neighbors lean out windows
hollering like they’re holding a newborn—
We, the lovers! We, the joy-bringers!
Or is it oui? They fling confetti,
pat my cheeks with glitter. Oui, the day!
Hours later, when they quiet, I begin
a letter to myself and your tattoos.
I am so safe, I write in careful, elegant hand,
so safe and happy, dear owl, dear elk.