Poems

To a Friend Jean Valentine
I cannot give you much or ask you much. Though I shore myself up until we meet, The words we say are public as the street: Your body is walled up against my touch. Our ghosts bob and hug in the air where we meet, My reason hinges on arcs you draw complete, And yet you are walled up against my touch. Your love for me is, in its way, complete, Like alabaster apples angels eat, But since it is in this world that we meet I cannot give you much or ask you much. You go your way, I mine, and when we meet, Both half-distracted by the smells of the street, Your body is walled up against my touch. My body sings at your table, waits on the street And you pass empty-handed, till when we meet I have been so far, so deep, so cold, so much, My hands, my eyes, my tongue are like bark to the touch.
〔170words〕