July 8, 2011
I felt the world swing off its axis---
my heart, thumping with heft,
made clouds tilt
ever so slightly to the left.

The sun’s smile became yours
spreading with the red fingers of sunrise.
I knew you’d always be there.
No surprise.

I see the trees wave their skeletal limbs high enough to catch Saturn’s bands;
gouging holes into a canvas thick with black feather,
in vain attempts to paralyze the clock’s hands
when we are together.

When apart,
I wait for your call.
Fracturing like old paint,
I desperately cling to my wall.

My hands remain naked without your skin to cover them. Alone.
A mind thick with blue,
makes minutes alone become months with a broken telephone,
that murmurs only lines congested with glue.

Even if I saw you yesterday,
sometimes it’s hard to remember
the shape of your face and the way
it brings tears red as embers.

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