Hello goodbye San Diego. I’m off to say hello to the moon with my honey, in honor of our years. Because who said you need to get married in order to go on a honeymoon?

 

With You

 

The pockmark on your face

is like a sun. The sweat can pool

a little there—a space to fill,

a crater. On sunny days my eyes

align along the landscape

of your forehead. Hair shorn

and clipped away, the scar

left from a chicken pock

tells me where the little

and the largest of my lovings go.

 

 

(thank you, katie conway, for photographing)