be my star, be it all
the whole and the fragment, the gas and the brake
the soaring acrobat, the waiting net
be the blackest coffee, the sweetest cream
be the scowl on the man with the hastily tied scarf
be the woman clackety-clacking the paving stones
be the bag of volcanic salt in my suitcase,
stored in the basement of a Reykjavik hotel
be the hurt in my hands from writing
be my aging body that finds stealth in the marrow
the vocabulary not rich enough to say how or why
be the man who comes to say goodbye one week
and returns to say hello the next
be lovely loving love-ish for me,
all hands and lips and heart
be the air we breathe in and out, urban
yet holy and sacred
yet holy and sacred
be laughter and daffodyls
be all the ampersands ever, in every size and font
be every letter ‘I’ in every book everywhere
be the accent on the letter e lifting an eyebrow
this way or that
above all, be the woman in the black sweater
and red lips
running into the wind, all joy
be the handwriting that tells this tale
and the coffee shop in which it is told
be open-arms and the pull of embrace
be everything you are called to be and nothing less
be the one who accepts this invitation
and every invitation
who knows no other word than yes
be an expanding galaxy of want
a meteor shower of kisses
be legs entwined and languid
with contentment
be the shoes that walk you to your beloved’s door
and be for him the pack of matches that
steadies a wobbling table
then lights the spark that shows you both the way
be the one thing you will always remember
and the million you will forget
be the one green leaf on a dying tree that shyly waves
at the erratic sparrows
be the sweetness in the sugar bowl
and the curving tongue of spoon
be the home you long for
be that beautiful ginger dog who will teach you
more about closeness
than all the heartbreaks combined
be every single picnic table we will never
grace with food
be the weight we will lose for forgetting to eat
be the man you are, the woman I am
the push to my shove
the hand in my glove
the treasured ache known as love