james valvis.

he's perfect. he's poetic. he's in love with me and i with him. he is writing me my very own book of poems, most excellent poems if i do say so myself, and i do. as does my mother, although i only let her read the mother appropriate ones. just so you don't feel left out, and because you've asked so nicely, here is one for you to read.

fifth letter to katrina grace craig written as a poem

katrina, i was just thinking
that my last three
were named kim, kristina, and karen
in that order
and it seems to me now
that i have been working up
to your name
trying to find the right word
combination of letters
knowing all the while it started
with the letter k

as if roaming in a dark dream
calling out names
in the night
that were almost pure
but not completely
strange and sour in my mouth
hostile to every whisper
praying them after coitus
as they suddenly transformed
from savior to sandbag
i waited for you holding them

katrina, if in poetry
we must find the perfect word
than why not with love
for certainly i have been in the process
of constant editing painful revision
and have often preferred to say
nothing at all
than the wrong name nightly

but how easily your name flows
from my lips
katrina katrina katrina
i can say it again and again
without pausing
like a chant like a song
like a prayer i've always known
but never uttered
and is only just now granted

katrina, i will sing your name
to the deaf in heaven
to all the cold audiences of hell
and of course
to you more privately
as i fill your vast eternity
with the finite morsels of my love

your name
your name


i sing


how could i not be heels over head in love with the man?