I vow to see who you are
completely and without fail
for this life
and five lifetimes after.
If you come back as a spider
and I come back as your mate,
even as I devour you
I will hold my abdomen
with two of my eight legs
and rock back and forth for a while
as I digest you
because I will
miss you already.
And if I come back as a clear-cut forest
and you come back as an industrialist
I will enter into your dreams
when I am fallen and made
into your four-poster bed.
And I will sigh into your aching heart
and that will be my gift to you:
a heart that can finally
be broken
because I will love you into that lifetime,
too.
And then you can be a squirrel
and I can be
the acorn
that falls at your feet
that you bury until winter.
And you can be the thirsty man
and I can be the rain.
And I can be the rain
and you can be the rainbow
that the people see.