after Donika Kelly

I see your eyes last, before dust.
In any new required birth, what remains:

plumage gold and striking, the black plucked
skin beneath, palimpsested trial.

Love, I would sing to you
every blazing star, every hunted ballad

              that burnishes. I would make a burnishing^[1]

of you, which is to say, I am in constant motion,
which is to say, I grieve everything—

my wings on fire, cracking, lifting your voice
into legend and evolution. My love, put down

the earth. Nothing lasts forever.
My love, I last forever

^[1]from, “Love Poem: Centaur”

© 2023 Terese Mason Pierre