MARBLES

30 June 2015

GARDEN, MINE

I garden my remembrances

My roses are speared with thorns

My arms bruised,

My arms welcoming and soft.

 

A crescent cove, that crease where

Your smile breaks,

A wave unfolding tranquil to shore.

 

As I plant a bulb or mulch a thirsty root

The long-ago casual glances—

No, that’s not true, write true.

 

Furtive is true, with longing, a sadness, regret

All those are true, never casual, never ordinary.

 

Always I searched for it

In the topography of your face

 

To go back or reach forward

See you smile into crescent-moonlight cove

Linger for the softest kiss

Its unfolding into sand and silk and your breath

So close.

 

To hear the sibilant calm wave

Temper the dissonance of time

 

If this plausible, this wish if granted,

What enchanted flowers grow here.