idiot
to hold you, my love,

like it was time's last minute,
or humankind's last fetus,
to hold you tight, and in this holding tight,
to hope you read all my heart's dictionaries
and hear in its arrythmic beat the pattern that signals what

a lover may be able to lay on the table,
no promise in the world

can fortify or prove
a knowledge that cannot be spelled.
You know? My love.
when you die
something in me will, too.
So don't die, idiot.