When sky is torn, collapsing heaven’s floor
I would shelter you, casting brutal hail
to warm rain tears, that shed the
bitterness
of yearning, division, the weariness of years

I would cleave to you as newly woven skin
upon the burns of depredation
, a living shield
restoring the
delicacy of a first touch, sensory
illuminations, the banishment of humiliations

When your voice is strained beyond physic recoil,
lost in the roar of puerile pluralities, I would
carve you a harp from a thousand festal choirs,
a book of chickadee hymns strung on silver lyres

I would forge for you a bantling breast, adamant
against atrophy, the avarice of
thinly gilded gods,
pulsing the nectar of Spring’s first rain, a ledger
of first loves to keep thine affections’ refrain
.

 

Jason Stelzner

Photo credit: Author