When I die an untimely death
​Slick ice beneath black tires
Deep silence splitting my ears
White doves scattering
like snow flakes.
When I am stuck between this earthly realm
and the next life
It is you I will haunt
I will sit with you as you mourn me,
holding their cheeks,
singing their lullabies
cracked whispers, flaring tempers, pores seeping with
aching memory
It is you I will seek
I will pick out your voice from the hundreds in my mind
and come to you
I will beg you to hear me,
in quiet, tickling tones
calling to you in a flock of geese
summer raindrops
fireflies
and you will hear me
I will lay with you and try to make my soul
small enough to fit into your dreams
melting sweetly into them like brown sugar in black coffee
invisible
inextricable
I will tuck myself into your pants pocket
place dandelions in your path
guide your hands in braiding his hair
and your voice in telling her stories
of me
and you will hear my laugh in the strangest places
like elevators
hospital hallways
and the centuries when
full moons and leap years intersect
When I die
I will marry you once more
Stitch myself to you
eternally
in the darkness between life and death
there are no phone bills, dirty dishes, or broken windows
and as my last breath draws me into the netherworld
my memories will be left behind along with my blood stains
on the car seats
And all that will matter
all that I will have
is the unbending truth that you and I
you and I
youandI
and we are both reborn
you will remember me
I will be the old man
sitting on the park bench
with cheeks that smell like sandalwood,
or cigars
or vanilla
fretting with the buttons on my coat
holding out the green balloon
you thought you’d lost forever

some days
the words come so clearly
so quickly,
I can almost feel them twinkling on my tongue
and turning into crystals
or smatterings of fairy dust,
and they fill my head with the longings 
of a poet’s soul.
the longing is deep
and wide
like a hollow tree trunk covered in moss
and fills me with shame and splendor
The patterns dance across my tongue
like a firefly on a dusky summer night
and my mind’s eye chases them
prancing over dry riverbeds
singing and sighing with delight.
I long to be both the pen and the muse
to spread myself across the empty spaces 
in the visions of 
beauty and solitude
like a goose spreads its startling song
across the crisp morning air
and then the baby cries
or the wild one chants my name rhythmically,
playfully
so I surrender to the poetry of their voices
and hope the words may come back
after the laundry is folded
before my cheeks are caressed 
by the pillow
and my arms engulfed by tiny lips
kisses light enough to make me fly