THE WAY I SAY YOUR NAME

THE WAY I SAY YOUR NAME 

with weight.

an injured promise hauling itself across my desert tongue, 
each syllable dragging against dry, cracked soil.

the haunting tune of a silver triangle,
the gentle tap of a metal beater.

a plea to a God that I abandoned - teach me how to love again.

the chipped fingernail scraping the back wall of an esophagus -
a purge of everything I stomached before you.

your name echoes through the valley in my chest,
a cast iron bell on the front porch

calling me back home.