A Cargo of Green Hearts
it has been a long time since
I thought of you. November is a month
grown weary of the sun. leaves batter
the earth like falling corpses. a kiss lingers,
a lost cardinal. a bird that matters,
like a letter in a shoebox. brown and
yellow do not suit me so I unzip. such missing,
your eyes blue as torch jets. time, they say, has a flavor.
this Fall has a flavor. Durga, something is awkward
with the way I am sitting. an eye
is crooked. I put my hand to my face
to remember your hand. it keeps the earth
from cracking. peace, peace, love. it is my only
map of you. at last at the bottom of the cup
I remember how deeply I drank
and how much I poured out.
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