SECOND CHANCE (BACK FROM EXILE)
If only we could be together
Again in this garden, morning
Sounds of flirty bird calls and
Heavy-limbed shade of thick leaves.
I would kiss your bruises and
Put my thumb and lips on your cut,
Offer my pale forearms to the bees so
You could turn your pages undisturbed.
With your olive island legs laying
Against the shore of my rib cage
I let my fingers run like children
On your sand, then lie down to dry,
Short-breathed and thirsty with longing.
When did I first know you?
What was it like not to hide?
How can this knowledge become
Once again unknown, forgotten?
The line of the sun moves over
Us, an advancing army charged to burn
And the open-mouthed trail of a plane
Above is a knife to this illusion.
You clap your book shut on a tiny fly,
Now an abstract piece in bits of black
And red—I am dead impressed.
You let the book fall and cross your
Arms over those eyes of wet earth.
Are you even here with me?
Have my hands really moved over you?
When your eyes close, where do
You dream of returning to?
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