unhanging

as i read my book in bed

we watched each other through stained glass --
sweat broke on my brow
under a blue sky, the sun white like orange blossom,
there i was
in a virginal memory of my teenage years.
i thought you looked golden and mystified
the way the light touched you --
it's always that way for a first love
like the one i have --
i would have prayed to you
adorned you with a halo of my love --
and no one could take that glow from you.

time stretches like aching limbs
and sometimes i'm glad for it --
i move back and forth under a shepherd's sky
through night and back again --

no matter what i do -- take time
to recalibrate your face
as it is now : i've never been longer
than 6 months without seeing your
smile in the doorway.
your shoulders are broader
your hair greying since our teenage dreams
lost their shape and meanings
only a few years ago.
and i reconfigure the face of my history:
my scars faded to white ;
i used to make you worry --
a knife washed up by the ocean
and the edges of my pain dulled
with time ; i no longer saw
myself in those glittering depths

i read my book in bed
knowing faintly i was looking for you
in someone else's frame.
my memories paint us through the roses
that climbed the granite walls
of my home.
and i swore i was untangling you from my reeds all the same --

in a dream in a garden you collect
green eggs and i study the redness
of the touch of tomato vines,
carefully i study them for suckers
and you passed me on the other side of the glass --

you stood by me steeped in a history
whose closeness would always press its cheek to mine

where i walked by the window
of the house your grandfather built:
you played in this garden as a child --
a face in the window ; i hung about the doorway
and as you came by you kissed me.

i want to always talk to you about everything

01/04/2023