For Paul
by Celina Villagarcia
In a hundred years your fingers
too frail to braid with mine
legs too burdened by
time’s hand to walk with me,
I will live the rest of my hundred years
lying in the same bed as you
mirroring your hollow sack of bones
I will inhale the thousand years of you
My thin skin might skim yours
two cobwebs floating on branches
your
labored tha –tha –thumping
your breath filling
my own
lungs
. . . and I will whisper
I love you
My hundred years
are sacred cows
wandering
in your pasture