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In the end
through the
dew-drops
rolling down your freckled face
you said

let’s find a place
where things cannot
ever
fall away,

– and I just didn’t comprehend.

By then
I felt only invited
as you surveyed
the broken map
of our histories

so sudden you were
so frantic
to nullify each valley,
to flatten every beating crest
we ever climbed.

I saw, your eyes divine
your blood so urgent
to hammer out
even the minor corrugations
of our pairing.

(By then,
the cold velocity of each of us
had aged our faces
and stole our weight)

So - when upon the table
that yardstick levelled out
your eyes met mine
(for the last and longest time)
and you pointed to a place.

So I guess
I’ll meet you in Ohio
in those flatlands
north of Lima

where all of that
smooth ground
might make us safe.

Where through trembling lips
you told me;

It looks even
in Ohio
in that bare land, north of Lima

so flat it is, so even,
nothing could ever fall away.