Bond
Gustavo Barahona-López
Once, you broke my earth open.
Brought down my constellations with a slingshot,
Planted seeds in the nape of my neck,
Poured spirit down my throat.
With you, I sing new stars into being.
I nourish saplings into forests spanning my back.
I drink of you like a communion.
With me, you let your fire burn incandescent.
You blast dams leaving nascent waterfalls in your wake.
You remember you are enough.
Once, you rip me open.
You make me roll up my skin (scars and all)
Like the poster for a movie you would never
Watch. You make me leave myself behind
Like a carcass scavenged clean by your need
Of me. Do you love me enough not to
Kill me? Is that your way of letting go?
I tear you to shreds once
Maybe twice or three times. I watch
You through the prism of my own cuts. Resist
The urge to collect your ribbons and make you
Whole again. I tell you your smile is the cruelest
Of promises. I berate you with my silence.
But once I speak, I mend us. Or maybe
You do the mending this time. Out of this thread
We make our specters.