what you are to me

              


Where I lived before here
many deer lived close
by me and I liked that.
I worked nights so
I would often encounter
their gatherings, lithe
stanzas of bone
in the darkness
on the way out,
or in the darkness
on the way in.
It felt such a gift.
Now I feel the same
way about you,
although you can't
know or believe
something so natural
and unreal could
really be. The way
they stood between
worlds, discretion
or fear, qualities
I don't really like
in humans I casually
worshipped in them.
Because they know
they are something
the world would kill
and eat. They protect
one another with their
strange form of speech
as somehow you protect me
with your warning silence
which is so very much theirs.
They always let me know
their blue world was not mine.
There are ghosts, and practical ghosts.
And as weird as this will sound
right now, the divide
is still the most beautiful thing
I can think of,
because it touches you
and me both at the same time.