[maine is for lovers] ii.

i try not to wash out your color with my
metaphors
granted,
i’m insane and you’re forgiving

and i have come to understand that
only peril produces poetry
and since you love me and i love you
i could not be happier

i am glad the carnage of the winter months has passed
us by and now
the ground drips with spring

and in september
you will be gone
and i,
will be empty