I belong to me, for you never claimed me
though I waited in fallen shadows deep,
waited like the aimless moon which time carves up and keeps,
like a harvested, hallowed-out pumpkin heap.
And you, never waiting, nor pausing, nor sighing;
never looking, nor seeing, nor laughing, nor crying
could not find two cents worth of tailored cloth
to give a care and cover my fears of darkness and loss,
though bitten were we by the hungry, vain moth.
And fortune (or God) smiles upon this unfortunate heap
of chaotic flesh and dances when we
hope for love while drowning in the unforgiving sea
it escapes us that, I belong to me.
Fears of being swallowed by love's great noose
that stopped your wild roving and weighted your feet
while I dreamt you'd be my rebel on the loose
who could meet my desire as the years did creep.
Suddenly, I belong to me, and for the first time
the blind Winters of belonging now brightly shine
in the shrinking house I had built to last
still leaking from the ramshackle past.
Dutifully kneeling, then standing on my own
fly until you rest on a statue made of stone
like one lonely gull upon a restless sea,
silently calling, I belong to me.
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