I walk under a slow rain. All my lovers alive again,
clinging to me like vapor on a morning meadow.

Mist unwraps fragrances: roses, wild dill, a dried kiss.
It was here we last embraced, behind the gray edged
building, in deep shadow. We held on to each other,
as if it might last.

I pinch the tip of a bell shaped flower, rub the pollen
between my thumb and forefinger, feel the slip of you
on my skin.

A young man sprints his way down the dirt road,
his legs lithe like a young deer. Steam rises from his body,
offers itself to the cool, June air.

Faces move toward me, then away, all the same face,
all different.


In this dream you are still with me, your clothes neatly folded;
a knotted tie hangs on the corner of a mahogany dresser, ready
for your hands.

Boats groan against their ropes; a lanyard drums the mast,
its throbbing hollow, deep, trembling the wood.