Poetry

Fight Against

Folded neatly,

crinkle free,

you fill the box up generously

with spare clothing for your next adventure

here, knowing I’ll

keep it daisy-fresh, water pure.

We may part this night,

yes, it wounds me inside,

but we won’t let it become a tide.

I know, despite all that’s uncertain

that the fates have yet

to pull down this curtain.

We’ll be Atlas and hold up the sky

together, you and me,

our bond a permanent tie.