it's not so hard to
ask anymore, these questions
intractable questions about
what we have lost and
where it has gone
and it worries me
maybe we have become
accustomed to its absence
I don't miss the suffering
and I don't miss
the uncertainty I don't
miss the clouds, whatever they portended
or any of the times that we pretended
that our love had limits.
but I do miss well-defended
winters, snowed in, knowing
inconsolable sadness, complicated
sadness, and the ease
with which you disentangled it
Look at this, you whispered;
It's like a cat's cradle.
You moved your fingers
and it was gone.
So we are left asking questions without
a voice to offer solutions
so we are asking questions and
they seem solutionless.
I don't miss
clandestine afternoons, and hiding
from confrontation, but mostly
from each other
and I don't miss
long explanations, and looking at wild
mountains, wondering how
they could be climbed,
and duplicity, and things that we resigned
never to mention, and turned from, blind.
but I do miss
sleeping, two to a narrow bed
confined, knowing infinite windows to
your own wonders, and the canyons
so dark, concealing cat's cradles
a kiss and
a question away:
repeating hopes that we could not abandon
but there were some too hard
for you, too hard for me
You moved your fingers, but
this one never disappeared
and while I pray for someone
who can solve it
I'll hide it away again:
An artifact, a tangled souvenir -
to remind me of the things you couldn't fix
to wonder why you didn't persevere -
a question about what I have lost and
where it has gone.
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 10:44 AM UTC
it's not so hard to
ask anymore, these questions
intractable questions about
what we have lost and
where it has gone
and it worries me
maybe we have become
accustomed to its absence
I don't miss the suffering
and I don't miss
the uncertainty I don't
miss the clouds, whatever they portended
or any of the times that we pretended
that our love had limits.
but I do miss well-defended
winters, snowed in, knowing
inconsolable sadness, complicated
sadness, and the ease
with which you disentangled it
Look at this, you whispered;
It's like a cat's cradle.
You moved your fingers
and it was gone.
So we are left asking questions without
a voice to offer solutions
so we are asking questions and
they seem solutionless.
I don't miss
clandestine afternoons, and hiding
from confrontation, but mostly
from each other
and I don't miss
long explanations, and looking at wild
mountains, wondering how
they could be climbed,
and duplicity, and things that we resigned
never to mention, and turned from, blind.
but I do miss
sleeping, two to a narrow bed
confined, knowing infinite windows to
your own wonders, and the canyons
so dark, concealing cat's cradles
a kiss and
a question away:
repeating hopes that we could not abandon
but there were some too hard
for you, too hard for me
You moved your fingers, but
this one never disappeared
and while I pray for someone
who can solve it
I'll hide it away again:
An artifact, a tangled souvenir -
to remind me of the things you couldn't fix
to wonder why you didn't persevere -
a question about what I have lost and
where it has gone.
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