Friday, March 7, 2014

In Brautigan's Forgotten Fields

                                                "Rose on Cracked Linen" by Cheri Blum

there, in the corner,
your eyes cast down and aside

trying to appear unobstrusive,
trying to become invisible and obscure,
trying to fade into parched woodwork -

your grain does not match the burled rings 
and even if it did, 
I'd still recognize your eyes 

in another life, some other time 
so far from here, I loved you fiercely, 
with such tenderness, we both wept, unashamed

as if it was always the first time we touched -
and here, now, even in the contours and confusion of this life,
remnants of tears remain, staining my fingers with salt

there, out in the open, 'neath the surly moon, 
your heart as broad as unfenced fields bursting with spring blooms 
dancing with darkness, agleam with light - 

tall, slender, lithe, aflame with grace, 
pale with passion you cannot name,
your voice shaking 

how you invoke rhythms and hymnals of wind,
how you stir currents of this aching river so deeply
with your whispered breath unbound, 

reaching through untold centuries for me; 
take my hand

I am here

I am