I Will
When the sunset
dilutes itself in the soothing
earth of your eyes
and the green
falls to loam.
When the dew
like tiny constellations
glistens in silken webs
and sleeping spiders.
When the last sorrows
are forgotten among
the black foliage
of nameless melancholy-
gray that feels pink.
I will, but don't
ask me until the time
comes.
I'll remember when
fatigue quakes in the
muscles of your mistakes
of memory; don't
rush the moonrise,
don't question
my will, it happens
always when I will
the wrong time right,
and the passion fades
from the planet's sight.
by Jason Paul Fox
