Bring You Back (So I Can be Your Spine)

The poem I want to write.
Will not bend God to His knees
To wash the feet of ephemeral men.
The poem I want to write.
Will not grind mountain down to sand.
It will not heat the desert to glass.
The poem I want to write.
Will not dry the oceans.
Or incite their undulating fury.
The poem I want to write.
Will not keep you warm.
It will not remind you of the empty spaces
Vibrating to fill the empty spaces of another.
It will not fish for compliments.
It will not drink whiskey
and eat steak with chili peppers.
It will remember.
And in remembering, look forward.
And in looking forward, look backward.
The paradox of wanting something you've already had.
Looking two different directions at the same time.
That's the poem I want to write.
The paradoxical encomium.
The ode to empty spaces longing to be filled.
The redemption party God was too busy to show up to
The poem that forget that pen is not bone.
Ink is not blood.
Skin is not flesh.
And in its forgetting.
Inserts itself as your spine.
Transducts potential into action.
Looking forward.
Walking backward.
The poem I want to write.
Is the poem that brings you back to me.