Dear Reader, did you notice the bees
today? Busy in their dandelion duvet,

their world of delight, while we devour
the ghosts in the snowberries.

I pray anxiously these days, say—
Text me when you’re home,
Text me when you’re a homing pigeon,
Sext me when you’re holy.

You cry in a weedheavy garden—
I want wild nights!, but look,

we’re tucked together, blossomtight.
Let me take your hand along this path—

your palm = my favorite trail.
And maybe you lost someone you love

this year, and you hear them
in wildflowers you tried to name.

It’s true, the ones we love still speak
to us. Dear Reader, we've searched

so long for each other, can we unfurl
together, fearlessly open? Unbutton

what holds you back and fling it
across the sky’s room. Ego migration.

Dear Reader, is it too soon to tell you,
I adore you? Your belt, declaring:
don’t settle, and I add down for our feather-
touch, the owls of us. Let’s reclaim the day,

the slant of light that’s fading. We’re here  
for an eyeblink with our bonfire hearts.

So much wanting—but before we leap
into the fire together, let’s watch

confetti moths reveal what we need to know
in this brief blaze—

carry me hold me love me
carry me hold me love me carry me hold me, love.

Note: Title was taken from a line in the Emily Dickinson poem “Bee! I’m expecting you! (1035)”