The Book of Weston

Thoughts of you appear

everywhere, like your curly hairs

on the hardwood floor,

little gifts you leave for me.

Am I ready to receive them?

Fear of other is fear

of a hidden part of oneself:

scorpion under a rock, guarded,

poised and ready to pinch.

I may not be ready to be seen.

You would lift the rock. You would

dare to be stung. I've seen

that when bugs land on you,

you let them stay.

I may be a type of bug.

Can I land on you and never leave?

Explore every curve and contour,

inside and out, with no limit?

Which is harder:

an ending or an eternity?

I have to be willing to be squashed.

You won't do it, but your love will.

Your love will squeeze until

what is inside is outside.

I've been through this before.

We are both hesitant, you say.

Don't hesitate for me.

I've been crushed, but I came back.

My armor is weathered and strong.

Your angel gaze crushes my doubts.

So don't wait. Squeeze

until my secrets are revealed.

Let your hair, your arms, your everything

curl around the contours of my heart.