by Jacob Friesenhahn<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
His hair shines black
\nthrough blonde highlights.
\nHe is slight of build
\nbut suddenly muscular
\nwhen the angle is right.
\nIf he smiles, life loves me after all.
\nIf he scowls, I have no chance.<\/p>\n
His brown hands wave above
\nthe deck with what I admit is grace.
\nHis painted nails flash blue to black
\nand back.
\nHis hands appear soft
\nso long as they hover
\nbut grow hard every time
\nthey touch a card.
\nHe speaks of life as one outside,
\nof death as one immune:<\/p>\n
\u201cGive yourself to the wind,
\nas leaves, as seeds,
\nuncaring where they land.
\nWalk not alone but apart,
\na hermit born of moonlit hunger,
\na fool chasing the sky, already
\nfull of the vastness inside.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet go of relics buried under earth;
\nthey are not yours and never were.
\nLeave this life behind, a forest
\non fire, burning itself into dust.<\/p>\n
\u201cTonight, watch as the stars blink
\njust for you, and the tress bow
\ndown as you pass, casting shadows
\nthat ripple like dripping black ink.<\/p>\n
\u201cFeed only on what you cannot
\nname; let it warm you like milk
\nand honey, for when you arrive,
\nyou shall know: the earth will
\ncradle you as she did before,
\nand your roots will discover
\nmoist dark ground once more.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Jacob Friesenhahn teaches religious studies and philosophy at Our Lady of the Lake University in San Antonio. His first book of poems is forthcoming from Kelsay Books.<\/p>\n