Lately
I’ve been closing my eyes
reimagining the hieroglyphs
of springtime
at your door
and the way the light
touched your form
but now it’s just me
and the moon
redesigning the colors
in your room
sketching rivers and lakes
into the tombs
of our love.

Tell me what you’re thinking
though I know
that it isn’t of me
but she
is still in every
night vision
every daydream
half asleep
half turned to the universe
of her design
elements of refracting memories
words
that have so long since
been my curse.

Time
has made a beggar of me
when October has
dug her nails into
the April on my mind
mouth full of planet
but chest full of wind—
she is closed to me again
her form is a mountain
when mine is just a grin
just a shadowy friend
of her own
on the ground
in the field
where our love story
would end.