By Michael Redhill
At the mere sight of this woman
I forget everything else. I forget
poetry and its balms, I forget
love's absence, the unclimbed stairs.
I can't recall the way the doors
open in my house, lose track
of my halls, which, unsupervised,
race out into the open air. My guests
sit unserved in the front room,
my friends leave after knocking.
Have pity on me. I walk out at night
and the heat-stricken sunflowers
raise their heads to show me
their thousand-kissed faces.
I fear love's arrival,
but if love comes for me
I will raise my heat-stricken head
to be kissed. I will open my doors and lay down
red runners along my hallways. I will
keep soup on my stove, bring air
into my rooms, and sleep on the floor.
I will happily forget my life if love
comes for me. If love remembers me.
Posted with permission from the author.
No comments:
Post a Comment