prompt: write a love poem . . . but the object of the poem should be inanimate.

you know the way to hold love
your southern face
pours golden light
slatted
onto the hard wood
over the altars set up for healing
for release
for seeking and finding the self

you know the way to hold love
the small corners you offer
for the dark embrace
the clean line of sight
from the bed to the front window
so there is a together in apartness
or how
in the heart of everything
there is the kitchen
where the lovers will pass each other
touching the smalls of backs
kissing the backs of necks
offering sustenance
in any sort of silence

you know the way to hold love
even when no love is home
when frida, nina, octavia and the moon
watch the emptiness
you make the memories fill you up
you savor the whispers
with the ancestors up in the ceiling
you echo the goodness
so it is a blessing to enter
yes even in the winter
you know the way to hold love