Birds settle on a tree for a while,
and then go their separate ways again.
There is no separate way apart from you.
When I breathe, I can taste your breath,
ablaze with an all consuming fire.
When my heart aches,
there is nothing you will not understand.
Many have died in this house, but not you.
Overtaken by this thing which men call death,
you are closer to me than my veins.
George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, Moria Poetry Journal, Chronogram Journal, Ampersand Literary Review, The Angle at St. John Fisher College, and 3:16 Journal. George’s blogs, essays and letters have appeared in USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, The Atlantic, Havana Times, South China Morning Post, The Buffalo News, and more.
See all his poems on Tea House here.
