It's what the Bible says

On the path to my lover's house,

I find a pebble, pick her up & say

a subtle prayer on her —

I pray she leads a stray dog back home.

After dinner, I home the crumbles of

my meal into a bowl, feed them to

the wind, to the cringing crickets, to the

birds vision- less due to fatigue.

Love unhindered — besplattering like

wintry slush on legs swarming in busyness,

To a dying flower, bruised by the side

by prickles of butterflies, I throw up a smile,

I save her from slow death, I cut her out of

a tree's braid & travel her body into distance burgeoned

by wind and sunlight.

Love unhindered — bedazzling like

my grandmother's tongue knowing death,

knowing time is out of time in her body,

still smiles and brims warmness out of the

quenching of her breathe.

This is how to live in a world colded by grief

This is how to surpass a distance pruned by loss:

Love without dissimilation;

Love without frivolities of religionist bigotry.