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Monday
Jun182007

two | mown grass (moan grass)


Perhaps I should have kept it, held it as I hold you –
close, closer, a close secret to my breast.
Things felt when we walked up the hill sides-hands bumping
I caught the sublime scent of you for the second time
and you were redolent of gentle hills of mown grass,
long behind childhood dizzied down lost and now again with you I am found.
You write, I could smell you from here … the palm of my hand.
Perhaps. Yes. You meant that.
A ghost veil resin thurible swing that leaves an insence trail of me
all number twos, you know it well.
Could you close your eyes and find me?
And if you did would you choose me?
The question always, do I exist for you?
I disappear then reappear – haunt your nights
reach to you from the bedside stirrings of the minute blip.
I wake when you wake: 5:20 a.m., 5:18 a.m. – we match exact,
and me thinking of you…
of you, of you, of you
seeing you move through the early greyed morning light
that inbetween time –  thin place where anything is possible –
Even loving me. Such things seem possible at that hour.
You say of yourself, “Such idiocy me” and I could cry –
of me, you write
You could make someone materialize…
Feel a touch from miles away…

I count the years, the months, days hours


Now, love, the minutes I have reached this eastern seaboard
wishing you would materialize, aching to your touch.
….and loves what vanishes.
I hold a small gold ring you bought me for a quarter.
I wonder the if the all of it is true.
You tell me Get it engraved;
“Man is in love and loves what vanishes
.”
I close my eyes, breathe in the warm scent of your breath –
an almost kiss. Wonder if you smell me still…
I turn the gold band on this small hand, kiss it for our luck.
Try not to think about the rest.

 

*note | this poem also appears in Other Poems as I found it difficult to truly categorize. 

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