CALL ME BELOVED

call me atlas –
if only for the sake of what I carry
in my heart, the sadness I happily endure.
I wouldn’t have this taken from me –
these pangs that strike me like when your tires
skid over a surrepticious puddle, that perfect moment
where an unnamed part of you embraces finality –
I call them mine and I carry them.
I write in panicked letters
and catalogue them, a rush of pain and
absolute fulfillment that marks the
milestones of my lifetime.