Letter #200

[A NOTE FOR PHONE USERS: the formatting of this poem skews when viewed in portrait mode, so I recommend turning your phone landscape or viewing on a computer/laptop.]

Dear             My Dearest                 Love           My Love            Allie

I’m not sure if 200 days makes it some kind of anniversary
like the first
100               but I’m drinking
to it. The logs I strip sometimes
have these arches like hunched old bodies,
the ones we get the most waste out of,
and those shreds I take from them
I take them home, or really
             they’re taking me
             by the end of these dry summer days
             wet and softened by the heaps of tears
             that waterfall them      from my cheek

have you seen a waterfall?     I
one of those big ones               I
suppose you have                   I
suppose some new man is sauntering
with you
on through                                            to
the other side

of one
maybe                                                  right now

I’m sorry
If you’ll have me
forgiven
the drink gets me
in a way sometimes

I wish you would tell me
not to be so pessimistic
I wish you would tell me
something

those carved logs
the arched ones sometimes
I’ll run my finger across them
and closing my eyes
it’s you

I still love you
even if you are so wooden

you once asked me if you could be a bird

or I would be a bird

right now


I want nothing more.

The man who will forever love
                                       you  ,