we reconnect after seasons of dismay and discontent
if in novel form? a sad mad story your auntie would recommend
meet under the full moon, one which softens grounds and softens hearts too
he grasps firmly, and with drained eyes studies, tangled sinew
the waxy line that once connected our mixed feelings, blood, and souls
to a territory, a state, so lovely, strange, something hard to let go
though unexplored and rough, his fingers are still so forgiving
mind focused first on the timeline’s sweet beginning
tries his best to unravel without damaging the tale’s soft spots
tries to understand even though our story’s mother-tongue’s tied in knots
patient and dependant on the one above’s role to guide him through
as he disentangles the storyline, in an artistic way my fingers could never do
our sinew love-story now stretched straight as an arrow for us both to make sense of
written in a settled set of words that we had to learn but gain no deep impression from
sadly we realize that we make no sense when we are viewed at a forced angle
and our story, our language hits better when it’s disrupted and mangled
but even though that straight perspective exposes the end of the story that we dreaded
our sinew love-story makes more sense with all the curves, knots, and frayed edges
S.R. Wesley 