“The Happy Couple”
by Alysia Nicole Harris
there will come a day
when the fear of death
will be the favorite joke passed among corpses
& they’re already laughing.
my love,
please don’t be afraid
but there will come a day
when field mice play
in our empty sockets.
when our bones
become homes for living creatures
other than our egos.
& when time josses our skeletons
out of the composition that is you and me
& we’ll write with us love letters
that spell “I O U eternity”
If we believe in life after death
then I always wonder
why
we assume the dead like coffins
when people were never meant to live in boxes
so I pray
our children will have the good sense
to leave us a little wiggle room
leave us exposed
like stray dogs in a thunderstorm,
and I will hear the breeze
but not know it as the breeze
and I will feel the rain
but not know it as the rain
and I will behold the sky
& not know it as the sky—in
stead—
I will hear the breeze
and think that it is your laugh
returned to the harp of my ear
& I will feel the rain
& think it is the pinprick of your kiss—
& when the rain is tender
I will know something has softened you
when it is violent—I will know
something has shaken you. & in this
new found understanding of eyes, or ears,
or hands, or lips—our bare bones
will be loved
in the dirt ever knowing our nakedness.
Imagine a corpse wind
cursing
through
a calligraphy of weaves
in our disrepair
we have grown gardens of ourselves—sprouts
of curious grass
shooting—
from our eyesockets,
our knuckles—hard smooth skipping stones
made for child’s play
& the devilish sun—picking its way through
our missing teeth
& neither one of us can keep from smiling
these days.
& the days—they go unnoticed
& the nights—they go unslept & we talk
with our souls
through the holes
where our organs once sat.
Imagine,
your skull and mine,
both reduced to the brim.
Both washed cleaned
of our skins and our sins
growing young again,
forgetting why we ever wrinkled
or why we ever furled our brow
with the plow of anger—
become dust with me.
insignificant and everywhere.
Fore I will love you
even after your marrow has become a whistle
& your bones—
nothing but the snickering of gravel
let us soak
in the spaces
our shadows left behind—your skeleton
next to mine.
I will tie your soul
to my ankle
& know what it is like to step into a dream
& you—
you will tie on my backbone
& see how bad it hurt
the day you said you were calling it quits.
I don’t remember
why you left, or why you came back
I’m not really sure how many years past
not really sure years past at all,
all I know is the rain falls.
you kiss me like a rainfall
the sun—bleaches us clear
& everyday’s romance.
All this to say,
we’re already laughing. There’s a wedding
of pebbles and earthworms
waiting when our tuxedo skeletons no longer fit
there exists a place where we can still be in love
said there’s a place,
where we can be still and in love
just two gentle skulls