Few sensed ahead of time from your forehead
The daughters of this day were possessing
The window, the surfaced hymn that lasted
In your plastic drink, beside this finished air.
And now we move into projected space,
Courting the promenade’s eyelashes.
A shawl covers the house of your arms.
I, out walking, am cornering the possibility
Of darkness, the context that is refulgent
Between perfumed skin, loosened gardens.
Never estranged from you—though standing
In distorted hills, the quartz came lonely.
Morse code of shade. Outlines of first light.
I don’t know if I know you. Touch evaporates.
JUNE 2008