portmanteau

I don’t know what name to call you: I’ve used up quite a few. I don’t know which words I used that decided you your that’s that. The once in a while strays for a stretch, and it’s strangers by default. I reach and I pause, the words wait, tongue tipped. I breathe in until something breaks, then I breathe out again. I say the name that I new first, the oldest memories dug in deep. A sped pulse, the pull of bone and root. The silent hymns of stone.

A crossed bridge, a burnt offering. The softest and most stern. This claim of light and heat. Met upon the this or that, some clearing at crossroads. Old claims of bruise and blame laid bare upon the altar. The curtain only sudden from one side. 

There’s no word enough to touch you. There’s no word enough to revelate your grace. You radiate in the evermore, kin to moon and star. Your formidable devotion, your unyielding love. You pace blameless save for blessings in my dreams, the firmament still ablaze with your distant flame. You linger in the daily bread and I finally gave up the goat, There was a table set for never, a scraping of the barrel, where love spends just like time.