Tagged: impermanence

forty-three hours have

forty-three hours have
passed since we lost you. i hide
the details
from my-

self, don’t get too close to the
edges for fear of falling

reflecting on the

reflecting on the
impermanence of it all, i
will not endeavor

to stick around longer than
rationed by time, seek attachments

i know, and now you

i know, and now you
know, how this will go –
there will be
one week when i will
be indecisive about emptying
the wicker trash bin in the
bedroom, months when i
will avoid vacuuming
one or two corners of the
apartment for fear of
erasing you, a year or
five may go by before i
walk down that street
or head to the cloisters
again, and still, there
will be pockets within
, here and there,
when i will, without so
many words, bump into
the feeling the last time…
was with you
over and
over, until you become
like a fragrance from
lifetimes before

i want to hold you

i want to hold you
for much longer
next time, let
our skins shuttle
notes as we dream.
because nothing is
forever, the default
is to embed ourselves
even deeper, so
that letting go
appears easy,
can’t possibly

a round of mantras

a round of mantras
away from becoming graceful,
i sabotage my

chances expertly, with years
of coveting self-denial

here is a reminder

here is a reminder
in the middle of
a wintry afternoon
that i do not deserve
you – my legs
wrapped up so
carefully in
your legs, and for
a small, exposed
piece of me that still
strays with the
draft in the room,
a warm hand lands,
perches, massages
periodically into
that tickle threshold,
in case i were not
already completely
yours, present

day one or day

day one or day
twenty-four, i realize
i think of you
so that there’s less
room for the
rest of it. we all do
it, think of one
another so that we
can manage how much
to withstand, surrender,
resist, confront.
this morning,
i couldn’t get out
of bed, then i
thought of you