poem: a treatise on the missing things

She looked at me with a dead glare
when I looked back she looked over there
by the green bladed floor just before
the trees took off their armor

I said, "I know it was you."
she said, "You think what was me?"
Then I thought about it a minute or three
For an article once mine had suddenly gone free

But with love the rules take a turn
rewritten as such so we learn
that gravitas and re-entry
grow an expected pleasant burn

And there it was my bracelet, of course
found its way to her wrist
it dangled and towards
my view I could see the relic's home was new

And when lovers take something of yours
the relationship swings like open doors
a concept I forgot was fond to me

Our bodies separate still share
hugs and kisses, looks quite fair
and often articles leave
erasing our boundaries

And seeds anew pressed to the ground
of poetry portraits square and round
and ego shards get buried with ease

For what springs up is finer still
the earth a loving grainy mill
supporting mixed and growing soul seeds