Today is one of those proper days
For you to make a gaudy entrance
For you to wake as if someone was knocking at the door
Half-asleep and half-angry, softly complaining.
You’d open up as a dormant flower, hands wet with dew drops
I’d crawl up and invade the warmth of your robe
The synthetic sigh of the heater would answer me
You would create a whole melody for it.
Today there’s still enough time for you
For the stains of black lead on the couch
As you rotate the sketchbook to make a faithful
Portrait of the curves of my eye lines.
There is an empty space you could fulfill
Under a dome
Not so supportive
That much precarious
But reliable for one night.
Today I could use a solid harbor,
As you were never able to be.
I could hand you this perfect opportunity
To embellish this day by just being
By just completely existing
Around me and under me and over me
And amidst me as a spilt glass
As a malfunctioning shower
As the rain that never bails on wetting the floor
You could wet me all over
With a much gentler rush of water
Sweet as only love tears can be.
This is the long waited chance
To transfuse your history into mine
To make the strenuous walk alongside
As if nothing, not even a single year,
Was ever concluded before.
Today, the stones and the flowers could be patterns
On that old blanket you waved me to sleep
You could break the silence of your typewriter
To leave a note on the counter:
“Be home by noon.Wait for me.”
It wouldn’t matter if it’s true
I’d believe in you because, if there’s something I’m good,
Is in believing the world would never turn towards
A time without you.