Saturday, May 26, 2012
He is always missing from his own mind.
His large, callused, arthritic, gnarled fingers
are all that caress her love young enough
to be the dynamo of thought and speech
he knows as lover, waiting for her heart
He is always overlooking her hell
to make a cross of his own salvation.
She says her breasts are too large. Not for me,
he replies. Her legs fold around his hips
like a Chinese fan unfurling to move
I don’t know your name. You know how to change
to let your body emerge from your mind.
Having flowed a little ways, your flesh swerves,
somersaults, curves into a smile I share
once I have lifted you to know your name
is my own . . .
Say the name each day, every night as long
as clouds stretch their thin arms across the moon.
As long as he stays home to care for her,
he knows no less than others what is gift:
your love that no one can take from me now
saying, I’m not coming back, eyes flashing
with her own flame, the way a fire can flare
once the ashes banked against the pit’s walls
are stirred. You knew more I than about love
lifting you from where I once started your
(19, 27 May 2012)
copyright 2012 by Floyce Alexander