I. To stand on ground one won’t marry, wounds

I can picture it, so vividly

The soft hydrangeas past peak littering the aisle with their clear brown petals. 

Tastefully over-steeped tea delivered to us in her grandparent’s China

She takes us to her hidden seas to cover ourselves in the cold water.

Salt lingers on my lips and I dream to kiss that salt off yours. 

I have never been this afraid of losing something

II. She is of golden rod trimming the house and monarchs staying long past their time,

just to get a taste

I am of the luminescent chicory laying amongst the cut yellow grass, trampled beneath my own feet

She breaks hard cheese with her hands

The golden berries I bought grew mold

For once in my life I want you to choose me over her

III. I’ve never heard the call of a pheasant, that, I know

a jagged screech,

could come from it?

Yet, I stopped to admire her beauty too

her face

her stature

You point to a cormorant and teach me how to say the word

i am afraid when it disappears under the break in the water

Your beloved asks us if that is a morning dove, I say no it was a swallow

Yes, I saw the bottom of it too

IV. If I stare long enough at the folding of an ocean,

it looks solid

Like I could dip a fraying paintbrush in the movement and paint a streak across our heads,

smudge it with the flat on my thumb, and call us clean

But it wouldn’t

It’s water

Am I the only one feeling the rain