The game plan

If I do find love for the bawling pebble I pushed out from my body,
I will smile with the readiness of the years I told myself I was not
And offer my dried lips and damp eyes in a prayer I whisper
Into your hair. The long corridor they will take you away is strewn with
Fresh trails of poppy you left behind in case I could not find you
After they have cut that head from me to you.
There is nothing much I will ask for, except that I will stay in love
With your kindness that makes flowers smile back, even when you grow
Too big and bristle at my touch and I no longer touch my face to your
Dark hair. Even then, I will grope for the trail from me to you,
No matter how overgrown it is, and I promise to love you from
The swath of your first breath in this universe till my last.
That is the game plan.