Dear Ryan

Dear Ryan--

I'm on a train passing a sunflower field and the flowers
I believe look like triffids.
If a meteor storm caused
a world-spread blindness
would we lie on the bed
taking insulin?

--Briony


Dear Ryan--

What if I couldn't find my phone to call you?
stumbling in and out
of the room's pockets
tissue clumped in the corners and
the clank of blind men outside

but I know you'd be in bed upstairs already
the needle glinting though we can't see it now

--Briony


Dear Ryan--

I would come to bed with
poppies in my hands
and you would be learning for us,
or what is the verb
for the act of doing

--Briony


Dear Ryan--

writing poems is not like doing

and maybe everything I’ve never written for you
would come out backwards all at once

--Briony


Dear Ryan--

The end would come slow to us
like fleshy leaves moving the wind
I'm passing a cornfield now and all I know
is you, sweet like ketones,
and the feel of you only
too strong for poems.

--Briony