Here's to You

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 30, 2018

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Submitted: September 30, 2018

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Here's to You

 

Stand there before me, lover.

Be a God over this yellow puke carpet.

 

I see too many mothers picking shells

or rocks from grounds on which their sons died.

Fathers cry when they force their daughters

to marry a man in order to protect a family name.

Not enough people hold hands while crossing the street.

It shouldn't matter if a stranger lingers beside you,

or a man, or frightful child, hold them

before time as a yellow car runs them down.

A content life is not some single crosswalk

made for only a few to stroll across when the

sign flashes green under all the red.  

It can thrive in a river where a

cow rots or some rooftop from which an albino

man believes to be another cold mountain.

 

I see it all from this student desk, wobbly below

my feet with chewed gum underneath.

No matter where we stand, we will forevermore

name the stars as they name the eight letter

flaw of Earth.

I cannot love you, seeing all this now.

You would collect shells on Omaha

Beach then place them to your ear,

claiming to hear our sons' voices.

You would watch our daughter marry

a doctor's saw as a remedy.

We would cross the street, your left hand open to our

grandchild, the right empty for ghosts.

 

What of me? The man who gave all the world's

problems in the shape of a growing belly?

I would delay behind old love, new life, ongoing

pain, all out of the sphere we promised to share.

I cannot act as God over this world of worn out

yellow carpet.

 

Here's to loving you for a week

Here's to loving you for the rest of my life.


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