spell for an old love

I want to hold something in my hands and say
— Here, this is how I love you.

Palms up, I would offer you a blue bird,
hopping, head cocked to one side,
before flying to nest high on
your windowsill;
or, pale green and white, a flower shaped like a bell
for you to press between the pages of your favorite book
until the petals turn gray;
or a smooth shell the color of sand and roses,
sea-scented and thirsty.

I think if I stood still, still
I would move toward you,
the way I stand at the shore in summertime
ocean-bound and brown.
I loved you when my bones were feathers
and my hair was long,
when my hips were slender and I didn’t know
what they were for.

I will love you when my bones are feathers again,
and when I forget how to dance.