and will I?
The question sits on all the lips of those
who lie in bed alone. You is/are the name
each of us give to what we love the most
or what we have not, will not know.
And it is almost always that One, absent,
Gone, through circumstance
Where did I lose you and when? Did it
Happen even as we knew we were
discovering each other that first time.
Was loss a piece of swelling
big as the enlarging heart?
Sweet basil growing greener reaches up
and through the grass like weeds.
Mallards form a rope across the sky
coming from the south in secret.
Cinnamon Teal bring up the rear.
An early thaw has made all canyons
The daisies saying love me now
or love me not.
If I have thought about you more than
now it must have been some other me
living in a different heartbreak house
surrounded by some other hedge of memory.
I have been to town and back, to Greece
in dreams and in reality. To far shore,
near field, streets between and always I
have sought you out; on yellow days in
yellowed pages, through rages of the mind
and heart. I do not start out on a trip to
corner or beyond without you for you
have never left my head or would be heart.
Where will I come upon you, if I do?
Perhaps in death or life again. When?
Perhaps not ever, what then? I'll give
It another day, a week. Another month.
A lifetime more or less, then I'll give up.