I look down Rudlin at the last of the sun
in the clouds above the buildings below
the trees as you let the dog sniff around,
taking his time. At home you and cat are
lying there the same, both voluptuous,
both content and not content, both really
loving me. You say you're glad she's had
a happy life. My olive arm is on your rosy
skin. We laugh, alone here as only we know.
For years I was a writer with one reader,
you. "I don't need to read books anymore,"
you said, "I just need to read you." And
then how my skin looks nice, in a soft and
quiet, peaceful and loved voice. Today I
say goodbye to the third person and accept
the fourth wall. Even drink water like you
now, in big gulps, wear your fur-lined coat
upstairs where I go when I go to write.
2011
I think this one really shows that time well. Immersion comes to mind -- being fascinated with the other and the love found there leading to an individual strength...
ReplyDeleteThank you :) I think the line about "content and not content" speaks of that, where happiness and a desire for more go hand in hand.
ReplyDelete