For you, I’d cross the desert
My body, let it mourn and ache
for thirst. The hallowing chords
of my veins pull dry.
Love, I want, but barely allow
myself to know. Please speak to me
about the novel, you could write about me.
A clan of words who thirst
to watch their cases be written. Love,
let me burn if it means you.
Let us have one night with no battles,
but peace. This is not about logic
but will, about being together,
on your time. If love was a book,
worn pages, leave me here to read
until my eyes become glass. If love
was a poem long enough
to be a gospel, let me sing
into the holy song and melody,
the sound of light. Love, stay
until the last page is turned
and words become reality.
Love, accept me, become me,
know me. Until I forget
who I was and who I wasn’t
in the desert, for you
Tralee Cotter is a junior at SUNY Fredonia, where she is studying writing and visual arts. She has helped publish SUNY Fredonia’s literary magazine, The Trident.