little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Far away
you can stay close
if you want
I’ll forget every reason
why not
remembering only the why
-why I should never have turned my back
to your crooked smile
your soft glow
you’re
your eyes.

Stay close and have nothing
far away you are
everything
the sun moon stars,
heavens above,
dance the clouds.
I want to say to
take my hand and
lead me, treading softly
along your silk path
through the sky
-it’s okay.

But no,
don’t get too close
stay behind the line
stay away.

I remember her red dress, of how when night came it’s thin straps slipped over her thinner shoulders falling slowly into a wrinkled circle on my floor. I remember her seeing me seeing her put it on in front of our ice curtained window the next morning and even though that dress was too short for autumn she would wear it anyway. I think because she knew it drove me crazy. She would hide it underneath her long winter sweater like she was keeping safe a secret that was only just for me. When she put on that sweater the light from the dawn would sneak out through the tiny holes in the fabric kissing sun-ray freckles on her pale unmarked body. She pulled it over her head ever so slowly. The leisurely motion in some way made me image a 9 year old boy I who for the first time that winter hesitated to pull but his snow boots over thickly crocheted socks.  His feet look like her head in some way. Both are somewhat unwilling to slide into warmer weather clothes; hiding a secret warming joy.