His Lover Crawling To the Ocean

Reach this farthest point from
winter asleep beneath the
poisonous sun in some
overgrown back yard

Let the phone ring
let the burning girl
discover god on her own

A town with no memory of
us is what we need

A philosophy of silence
low hum of bees moving through
the clover and a shared history
of regret, and when I speak your
name itís only a prayer

If I offer you trust I
ask for nothing more
for nothing less in return

We will spend our lives
describing our fears in such
bittersweet shades of ecstasy

John Sweet

2/22/2017