I am out of doors . . . 
my only entrance 
the space in my chest, 
breath entranced, 
as my name returns to silence.

I was born for you.

Lifetimes, I’ve laid feet 
on your grounds, 
hollowed my throat 
with your howls and chirps, 
hallowed my eyes with the 
sights of your whales and lizards,
only to ignore you flow 
in my veins and arteries,
my supple forearms, 
my jagged leaves.

I am resigned for you,
willing to settle into uncertainty
while you rest, refresh, sky and sea,
desert and forest.

It comes to this, my only love,

I return to you as long as you 
will to exist. As long as you know
I will forget our connection, 
only to remember
within the abated wind 
on an orange horizon,
only to forget again, 
until I eternally, internally,
rediscover, that I am
only a question in the only answer,
a cosmic orgasm 
in skin making time 
with a planet that beckoned.

[Acknowledgement: Love Note to Gaia was first published in The Nemadji Review Volume 10.]