Tag Archives: Costa Rica

How it Ends

The photo of you
sitting in a field
of wildflowers
made you seem accessible—
and the picture
of your body
halfway into Mosquito Lake
seemed to indicate
you lived for adventure—
but the joy in your eyes
as you stood on Mt. Rainier
was in fact nontransferable
to life down below
where love waited its turn
for you to find it
as beautiful a destination
as the mangroves
in Costa Rica and now
the Redwoods are calling
and you are almost gone.







Winter Daydream

My mind
likes to wander
into your territory
and make believe
it’s me in her place
holding your hand
on the beach
or laying next to you
in the night
listening to the
mottled owl screech
its warning
not to get too close—
so I keep my distance
even though
I can remember
your earthy smell
and the way
you tasted my skin—
and I pretend you aren’t
in another country—
and that if
you had a choice
you’d be next to me,
here, in mine.





“Danae” by Gustav Klimt, 1907

For Her

You were in the right place
at the right time
and offered him a sweetness
which he accepted cautiously
and optimistically—
and now, years later, you have him
all to yourself on the trails
and on the water, and even
in the air when you travel to
California or Costa Rica—
and you get to study his mouth
when he says words like bloodroot
and loosestrife and chokecherry—
and you get to see his joy
when the brown thrasher
keeps singing even when summer
has come to its end—
you have a bird’s eye view
of his mission and his passion
and you are allowed to curl up
beside him in the nest of his bed—
but I envy nothing about you
except your proximity to him—
to a creature neither one of us
will ever possess—
and when he wants to fly away
(he will need to fly away)
I hope you’ll kiss him goodbye,
softly, and let him go.