However eventually
By Julia Williams
She’s a poem that kills when written,
kills me when forgotten
A confusing choice I’m given
to drink what has always
felt like poison
I’ll tell her I love her
once I become whole,
once the city and the country
make amends in my soul
I’m considering what could be
a lifetime. A branch of hope.
A footstep forward into
the vast unknown
For twenty years I’ve distorted my manhood
by accusations towards femininity
So forgive me, my darling
for I will not tell you I love you
But, God, he looks so pretty.
However eventually
for the soil takes nine months to blossom a rose
and the night suffers a large amount to birth a star
and humanity waits thousands of years to provide a prophet
The silence for which I substitute my words,
at least promises anonymity
to this: let my rib become your prophecy.
I’ll cover you when you fall asleep
with sheets made of the fallen leaves,
so why don’t you wait some time
for you to become mine.