from The Blue Rooms
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On good days my past likes to go for walks
among the red hedges she sips dew
from the petals & when her lips get red
I laugh her hair laughs with me we discuss
furniture glimpsed through windows & often
we seem to agree but holes on occasion
appear in wooden dining room tables
& when a lead weight gets dropped through a hole
it sinks & only I see it sinks
into a blue room where I remember kissing
Erin the sheets grew nervous in our hands
& it feels like I lean into her although I am not
leaning now it’s as if she is holding some money
out to me saying take this & I have to
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When I came upon this tall white building I knew
each of its rooms was a part of my past
& I was a white boat grazing lightly
the water but when I rest my eyes upon
the water three parting geese deride
some courtesy extended by blueness
to remain as simple as a matchbook emptied of
matches or the way one scrape along the pavement
ties me to a mainsail draped around a fawn
the grasses chewed & permanent but like a rig
unroped from a guardrail I proceed through the blue
fog with no wish but pinching Erin’s first
feather between two fingers as often as I wish
one year could careen laughing into the next
...
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