love poem

Your brother has left his wife fallen

for a younger woman we

could be watching the rerun of a made-

for-TV movie right now only the hinge plot

is missing: redemption, revenge, or madness

temporary or otherwise are all possibilities we

watch and grope for the least intrusive advice

possible: take your time, breathe, take your time—

hang up the phone with our mouths full of words

we then speak to each other a good crisis draws

us together a good crisis is one that doesn’t happen

to us we

know we are looking into one possible mirror we

know our minds have already dressed in those clothes: Scene

One door slams much weeping a new life lived clear and

free cut Scene One door slams forgiveness cut Scene One

regret regret regret cut

There’s only ever a Scene One


You can’t judge from the photographs because we

are always smiling there was no one there to record

my hysterical weeping deep in the hay there was no one

to record your hands as they lifted my great-grandfather’s

screen and threw it against the wall there is no

photograph of the first night we slept apart in anger

or the next falling

in love was like a sickness

my yearning for you so strong and constant and

I was by nature so solitary there came a point I nearly

couldn’t abide it that sudden dependence on your voice

on the way you held my face in your hands when we kissed I

know your body better than I know my own know your face

better than I know my own the scars on your lips the minute

folds of skin beneath your ears the dense mat of wiry hair

on your chest I would like to believe

these belong to me.