A dried orange slice
glitters on a string in the window.
I invented you, just like
I invented this city, this love
for your father, these flowers.
I rain and rain over streets
shining like tributaries.
I speak to you under the cover
of dark. It is dangerous to hope
this hard. It is dangerous
to be writing any of this down.
*
If there was some mistake, I don’t mind.
Here is the lake
you will learn to love. Here
are the lilies, the cattails, the reeds.
Meanwhile, the sun is growing
larger, large enough
to fill my arms. Don’t make fun
of me. I’m not used to miracles.
I’ve lived here all my life
and I never knew
what the light could do.
*
When I feel you move in me
I long for you
like a lightning bolt
longs for a lake
*
Your eyelashes form in secret,
steam swirling off buildings.
Walking the half-frozen river
of my childhood. You are
my bright eye,
my illness, my ache. Less a promise
than a plea.
I’ll keep you safe. You don’t know
how safe
you are keeping me.
*
Forgive
these fake flowers.
Forgive
the curtains left open
at night, so I can keep my eye
on the flame
burning outside
my bedroom window.
I don’t know how to turn it off,
or can’t.
It glows in a glass casing.
Forgive
the men and women
I have loved
who are not
your father.
I suppose I could shatter
the glass
to get to the flame,
but I like letting it be.
You are dreaming again,
pressing your foot
into me
and I press back.
A river runs between us
and the glittering town
on the far side of the valley.
I stand under the trellis,
studying the lights.
Forgive
me, I am already
lonely
for that other life.
*
In the saddle of the mountains, the sun
contracts and expands.
One hand
reaches up to hide your face.
Don’t be shy. You cleave
past from future,
false from true.
One day, you will become,
away from me. I will never be who I was
before you.
