Today is my love's birthday. He is my heart, my life. Happy Birthday, Judge.
And here's a little poem I wrote for him to celebrate the occasion. I'm a bit proud that the shape of the poem is supposed to be (Middle) Tennessee sitting atop Alabama. I thought that was fun.
for Judge on his 37th birthday.
Every morning I wake
and wonder how you have appeared there,
sleeping lustily in sighing manly breaths,
and have you just arrived to show me
what art and virtue and revolution
look like in human form?
It is true I asked for you - not unlike
some situational romantic notion
usually played out onscreen -
after near-misses and heartbreak,
you showed up in cowboy boots
and an aggrandized Georgia accent.
How is it possible I met you twice?
We fumbled our first shot and walked away,
both returning to another and forgetting
the chance encounter in Hillsboro Village.
How I had sought a man who could define
heavy-laden with the Song of the South
in his veins; one who could bring me a family
in the chorus of his own hymn, solidly facing
the future without forgiving his past. Thank you
for returning for me. For allowing me to break
with you, to build with you, to better with you.
Thank you for bringing music to my house
and giving me seeds
with which to garden.
Thank you for being
my fractured fairy tale.