Like Famous Japanese Lovers, We're Thousands of Miles Apart
Forgive this note. Our plan is killing me.
- How can I bear not to phone or even write?
I go dazed around the house. Excuses
pour from me like filth.
My pipe goes out a lot.Tell me, what's more important -
that I get to work like I'm supposed to,
or should I just lie here on the warm stones,
go over what you said,
feel blessed?I see you bending, cursing the tulips,
digging too short for their roots - your fingers on fire.I couldn't tell you over the phone
but I dreamt that you and she were distant twin planets.
To see each face, I had to flounder across -
I'd just reach her
and the vision of your face would come clear
and I'd struggle back, filled with longing.
Again, near, her face would pass in front of yours
like a cloud, and I was sure: it was she I really loved.My words fly up, meet yours half-way -
over Saskatchewan probably.
The mailbox is dark inside
with a tight slit that snaps shut over my letters
- oh my body wants to come too.I washed your handkerchief and hung it out with my laundry.
- You'd left it knotted up at the bottom of my bed.
It looks nice on the line - pinned between my red blouse
and that slip you like.