I hope morning is only a suggestion.
I hope we linger in bed to memorize
Spring spilling warm sky outside,
a collage of our lives as rose-lit. 

I hope you kiss my neck after coffee.
I hope your mouth lands on some reminder,
that we sigh and sing a thousand renditions
of what it meant to be unbroken.

I hope winds carry boats across the harbor.
I hope we can peer inside sealed buildings
on our drive through the bends in the city
and the dark tunnels muffle your grief.

I hope time massages you with prayer.
I hope our children fuss and scrape knees
so you soothe them with your quiet hands,
and we all forget the dead.

I hope you at least let me hold your hand.
I hope your fingers unclench just long enough
to forgive mine for being slightly cold,
and you remember how to warm them.


Photo by Ave Calvar on Unsplash

Tara Iacobucci

Tara Iacobucci is a poet living in the Boston area and teaches English at Canton High School. She self-published a young adult fiction novel titled The Trouble with Pretty, and her poetry and prose has appeared in Plymouth State University’s Comp Journal and Centripetal.