LOVE POEM TO THE CONCEALED
2
In the next life you will be wearing my clothes.
You will have to unbutton my shirt near the top
to make room for the roundness of your breasts.
You will have inherited everything
that ever touched my body.
It will be an entirely different planet.
The blood will have been hosed off the sidewalks
and the broken windows will have melted away.
It will just have snowed. You will be your own child.
No
body built in childish humility
will ever fall down.
The trees will look like the skin of a baby's hand.
It makes me ache to sting this:
you will make it to heaven
and I won't be there to hold your foot.
3 comments:
Dear Sarah,
I don't hate the word "lovely". But it is one of those words that one must use with incredible passion in order to redeem it from the cheapness that's been foisted upon it by thoughtless overuse. Since I assume that you use it passionately, I commend your using it.
In turn, I hope that my heading this response with "Dear Sarah" means that your existence is actually DEAR to me; that the word is not merely a piece of inherited etiquette.
LB
PS--By the way, I apparently don't have an e-mail address. This will be the only online location where you can communicate with me, at least for now. Feel free to continue to liven it up with anything you can think of.
dear luke!
i appreciate your care with "dear." it is unusual on the internet, i think, where "hey" presides.
you'll do without email, i think.
sarah
I actually have e-mail again, because it helps me to gather submissions to my magazine. I only check it once or twice a month, but it's there and I will reply to anyone who sends me a letter.
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