Working Toward an Ending: An Invocation

for A.F.

Press into me
the thoughts in your eyes,
control my mood
with the tilt of your head,
looking up,
a face below mine,
sweet, tall, and smiling muse.

The love invoked from your arms,
circled around my back,
clasping,
the inverted top of a Cupid’s heart,
is the feeling of stability
and home searched for
in vain, through the darker places,
finding truth in the faux-tiled floor of your kitchen,
knowing that the door
left through
remains open to me
in all climates,

knowing innately,
that you love me,

and that my devotion
is boundless.