I want to write a love poem for the girl I kissed after my senior prom,
and for what we didn't do. A hymn for the girl who leaned her neck toward

my lips and giggled when I swayed her like a pink stem in my arms. I want
her to know I tried to be addicted and moved to prayer, I want her to know

she is beautiful and kind and when I kissed her neck in her parent's driveway
I remember the crunch of the dress, my fingers in its folds, the corsage smashed

against the rented Tuxedo. I want a song for what I didn't say, but thought-
maybe you can be the boy, they aren't for you but for what I'm not, yes, I did

avert you gaze so I held you closer-It introduced me to a death of never stumbling
on scented keepsakes and delicate cards wrapped in red string, of a body that can't

make fever for her but nonetheless burns florid and bright. No tremble, no sigh
for romance, not even enough breath to sigh, but enough to remember trying.

small boat with two oars

black bag able to be sealed

knowledge of a few Latin words

       multicolored ribbons

few wooden boards

quilt or heavy blanket

lantern and spade

iron skillet

       notepad and pen

a large boat with two oars

black bag able to be sealed…