I'm Sorry For My Lateness
I have never felt the weight of easy
in this sense or the idea of fresh basil growing
from a tomato can.
Having you twisted and folded
brings past losses into a remember when. If I
cannot sit silently with you
without a certain mass of giggling
perhaps we have learned that there is no
ounce of suffering in love.
I feel you bending in the U's of my fingers and becoming
inexplicably a part of my morning breakfast. Did
you know my teeth bleed when they are touched not even hard
and they ask "for what do we owe this pleasure?"
If you would like to know, I took the bus route on Sunset
to Santa Monica and the whole way, I tied myself
to an arboretum of growing love--sprouting beneath the poppies
I take my time with arrivals and always manage to come
within three minutes of a deadline.
Though you are angry without a courtesy call, I am still
learning to be slow and unhasted with my promies
and dually learning to keep them.