April 11

As she goes through heartbreak
I watch myself relive ours. A
Small (nearly imperceptible)
Canvas curtains my torn mind.
My spiraling mind, full of
Text, deigns to empty on a
Trodden doorstep: All astroturf
And blue my heart of plastic
Proportion. I remember small
Moments huge. You're nowhere and
It's unceasingly intimate. I
Met your mother. He helps his
Mother. I ignore mine. Something
So subtle calls to me, wanting.
I leave my claw marks in your
Dusty mirror. You wipe me down.
We are orange and then silver.
"If I sit still long enough,
A poem will emerge," I think.
I can't stop watching myself,
Tipping my hat to reality. In
My peripheral vision everything
Smells like speed. It's almost
Too simple. I remember your
Simple way and I feel grateful.
The wordless pursuit of a body in
Time will never cease to
Grip me. My eyes are a
Small canvas. No sprawling
Moments. One sculpture for
A face—the one I can never
See. I'm finding a word in a
City, trying for generosity. As
Syntax is encountered so too
Do we course on. A river cannot
Be stagnant, else it's moving
Backwards. Only forward. Back
And up to go forward and out.
I get so tired and I keep
Walking. I give up for a
Moment before stopping that.
I stop so I can move. You
Move. I go. It's too much for a
Spell. Then something is
Published and the future
Opens before me. "Missing you"
Is a state I've had to know,
Much like a family. I've meant
To tell you I think we have
Shared values but you're
Ceasing to be an object.
Just in my hands: this time.
You slide through. A small
Canvas. A burgeoning bookshelf.
I charge myself. You lay asleep
To my side in my mind. I am
Myriad things. I say hello. You say
Hello. You opt for a route I hadn't
Even noticed. I see things about you
As we reveal further each other.