The First Time

The first time that I met you I knew I loved you.

Cliche.

But I knew it the way I know how to walk,

in my body like the breeze enters my blood.

See I was made to love,

before.

Back before the tiny pebbles weighed me solid to the ground.

It happened slowly, in a random.

But always always I lost movement in the legs I had be gifted forto run.

Best not to notice.

Easier to choose no choice, and blame the stars for failing.

The first time that I met you I said hello.

And the second.

And the third.

And on and on and on I went.

I held my love between my teeth like a rabbit that might escape,

breaking bones.

But there was no soft in my structure.

Until you touched me,

and I rang hollow as a bell.

That was the first music I had made in moons.

Magic motion.

Resounding ripping through my ribs.

The next came water.

And a wind.

My weeping windows and howling heart made canyons in my stone

The elements of life began to pour from out of me

and I was sure that I was dying except I didn’t.

Except that

every time you passed I felt that ringing in my bones.

I sang, you.

My nature coming home to claim its wreck.

Can you live a life backwards?

Corpse to human and back to child?

Slowly dropping all the scales until you find your body limber

in the sun?

Its been a while,

but I’ve a trade distilling starlight into bells that sing your song.

The next time I meet you,

save the date,

I’ll know you fully and say hello again

for the first time in my life.