If there is a place down south Or a vast plain of land up north I would like to move there with you. There would be bookshelves, stocked with your bibles and my self-help books With crystals beside them, and rosaries hanging off their spines; A chic clashing of belief systems, But both make sense in the openness of our conjoined minds. Every square inch would be stocked with vintage home good finds Every corner Every dark nook Even the spiders would find somewhere to make a home within the one we built.
I would like to live there with you In a place that looks lived-in In a place where there is still room to grow. There would be no expectations of me bearing children Because you are okay with not being a father And I am okay with being alone with you Delving in our artistries The writer and the painter I will kiss you with acrylics and read you to sleep with poetry. (all I do is write about you)
It would be a place of healing And in the evening I would marry you in the kitchen, Dance on the terracotta floors that I had to beg you for And see, for once in my life, that a soul can glisten. We could do it tomorrow or now With the delftware china listening to our vows And every Sunday, we would wake up to silence And rot in the bed until 1 P.M.; a quiet defiance.
I would be a second mother to my sister's children Not just an aunt And they would beg to come to the farmhouse Where Sunny would run in the yard And blow the incense smoke into a whirlwind. There would be chamomile tea And we would be happy— For every moment that we spent working, praying for something better— They led to this life, in this place we've been staying.
Alas, it is only in my head But someday, I would like to live there with you. Somewhere on a farm, somewhere built for two
I've dreamt of it once or twice.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
