University of Wisconsin Press
Presence And Absence
I know you are watching too.
Watching the wind. The leaves, a bird caught at an odd angle,
the heaviest purple figs blown down.
That when you left it was just to be invisible,
not absent. The peaches are past, the grapes, and pears.
Your pain. I keep thinking about pain,
How fine its edges can be slicing fresh & deep—
Until I can think of nothing else, like a lover lying in bed alone
satisfied and hungry.
The thin coma of white vapor collecting in the sky
reminds me how self-conscious you were.
How I want to join you when I want nothing,
but keep wanting. How the late light forms
its planes & intervals on the wall partly obscured by trees.