Sunday, August 15, 2010

Two thoughts

1. I populate the escape

I want to sit with my knees spread
elbows resting on thighs,
hands clasped hanging
in the middle,

my spine
a casual curve and only the trees
to see me.

My generous jeans will barely skim
the skin of my generous thighs and
the plain top pressing my chest
will never have heard the word

A cap will hold back my hair
still long so dark like silk I sighed
when he used to touch it

when she used to touch it I
was Sampson.

2. and return.

I discovered the pillow speckled
with drops of your old blood:
an unfinished Seurat

from the night you had
that ear infection —
I remember how your

pain and my inability
to make things better
pierced me.

I shouldn’t address you.
You aren’t here and you don’t

Tell me: should I throw away
the pillow?

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