Dedication

—in loving response to “Inscription” by Fred Marchant

I don’t believe you

I curled inward, just like you said
A map of boundaries and uncrossable oceans

Told them I was tired, retired to the dirt
And it hurt so much more than living

I was stillness, but my muscles were coiled
I was quiet, but my blood remained hot

Were you drowning in it?
Lullabies lying heavy in your head

Maybe we need not imagine
My heart is an engine

I think you have more beneath your iron armor
More to say, more than dust to blow away

Tear every petal from the rose’s thorned throat
Tell them how you savored its velvet flesh

Blooming violently on your tongue

Header photograph © Bradley Branson.