John Biscello

I practice my grief,
I refine it,
for when you are gone,
for when I am gone—
my love for you is reachless,
meaning
for so many years
I carried vagrant distances
within me,
or they carried me,
bated and aloft
and sometimes freezing,
yet you have crossed,
and are crossing
still,
there is no trying
or grasping,
no undue claims necessary,
we simply are,
moored to each other’s
given stars,
and in this blue blue world
of liminal fade
and perish,
my awareness
grows sharper
and keener
every day
to make of our shared moments
a ceremony of treasures,
and to cherish, with tenderest grace,
the passage of our lives
like so much water
threading holy.