I am not dying,
any more than
you are dying.
More imminent?
Perhaps. But if
we are to speak

of imminence,
let us notice
the light that shifts
each instant
on the forest floor,
the air currents

that graze the cheek,
the grass that rises
faithfully between
our toes each spring.
Let us again and
always affirm

our love, this
something solid
that we will carry
with us like a
pebble in our mouths,
unsayable, intact.