This is my plan.

This is my plan

   In the normal course of things, you'll die
   before I die, older than I
   and male, and therefore burning up your life
   hotter and faster, than my womanish body can
   no matter how I'd wish this body
   could vanish without you to hold it here.
   And chances are we won't go down in flames
   from skies between the place we live
   and where we go to look at paintings
   showing other pairs--affectionate Dutch couples,
   John and Salome, Danae and her lap of coins,
   Apollo and Daphne, Adam and God, Adam and Eve,
   Eve and the snake, old and affectionate Dutch couples.

   Where we go down in flames, we always land
   safe on the ground, no matter how we fly--toward,
   together, or at each other.
   And chances are we won't fall off some bridge
   Together, having done our falling years ago.

   These are the things I'll never do again:
   I won't eat lobster, sing the hymn called Hyferdol,
   see the ballet company we saw on our first date,
   ride a German train, choose a tie, drink English
   Breakfast tea.

   I'll burn the clothes of mine you liked, and
   all the cards we played Gin Rummy with.
   I swear, I will not harm myself, will not
   fill my eyes with ashes, or steal dirt from your grave
   to stop my ears, will not cut my skin
   to let the howling out. I will not die.
   I will not trim the beard and hair of any other man.
   What I will do, I think, is find someone to love
   so all I learned of love with you
   won't choke itself, or me.

-- Devon Miller-Duggan