Fall 2009

lilies of the subway

you lit your cigarette
and slowly strum back tar-
( i drape a careless arm over his back. )
you leaned against the cold and lingered,
and i
swayed back and forth in his grasp,
circling round the living room like
ballerinas on wooden music boxes

there you were in a crowd,

your body hungry,
your eyes of slate--
-- i brush a hair back and listen to the wind outside
where Ella does not hear and Coltrane cannot touch
the places we have been, and the lives we cannot have -
the distance that shrouds fragile memories,
sparkling, fading,
like ashes on your winter coat
and the kisses i left on your shoe

his hands steady me tight,
and the fire light crackles a slow, soft moan.
i caress his cheek, and
miss your smile,
( the way you easily erased scars and
inhabited its space )

we often search
but rarely find,

and what we find,
we often lose.





distance

there were nights when
the traces of your last cigarette
dissipated into the
drunken air,
where the buildings were alive with lights,
that scattered its weight from Seventh street to
Main,

the crowd sways,
and you shift breath,
your body softly calling out to
my vacant hands,


but i stay where i am,
and converse with my feet;
your nicotine hit preoccupied you
just fine.

and i would miss you,
i would miss you

so
much.





arm's length

you are a bullet
and i have bitten the gun,
if it should
rock, steady,

( i will wait - )

but if you truly believe
that we could live this way,
with the curtains open, and
all the doors shut,

then i won't,
then i won't.