i don’t remember who
i was before we met
and now that you’re
gone where am i?
somewhere else
where there’s no
one like you and
the me i used to
be is equally
dead
What happened, happened once. So now it’s best
in memory — an orange he sliced: the skin
unbroken, then the knife, the chilled wedge
lifted to my mouth, his mouth, the thin
membrane between us, the exquisite orange,
tongue, orange, my nakedness, and his,
the way he pushed me up against the fridge —
Now I get to feel his hands again, the kiss
that didn’t last, but sent some neural twin
flashing wildly through the cortex. Love’s
merciless, the way it travels on
and keeps emitting light. Beside the stove
we ate an orange. And there were purple flowers
on the table. And we still had hours.
I close my eyes and see
a seagull in the desert,
high, against unbearably blue sky.
There is hope in the past.
I’m writing to you
all the time, I am writing
with both hands,
day and night.
23 February 1969
Dear Shep,
You lightning flash in my life, illuminating for a moment at least
everything,
this is a letter I can never send.
You are a man I may never see again in my life.
The tent you live in is soft,
touches my cheek
with sun
in winter.
You gave me nothing
except hope
and that is everything.
my life now
an iron sheet
a thick wooden lid
a heavy curtain
Rationality
gets one through life,
makes him a superior man (or woman),
allows him to meet the world on its own terms,
gives him many friends,
makes him live his life with commitment and honor
but it does not nourish him emotionally.
His wives leave him.
His lovers betray him.
He lives sanely and honestly
and the world heaves its irrational sighs
and bumps drunkenly against him.
I am a rational woman;
at the mercy of men who do not know how to love
but take what they want when they see it
and abandon it when it is inconvenient to hold,
heavy,
You could not carry me;
I was too heavy.
But I can’t blame you;
no one else seems to be able to either.
I carry myself so well;
this pond makes me wonder
an image of a nature writer bashing frogs on the head, until there
were 40 of them dead, to make his supper;
where are you
anyone
when I need you?
Shep, you came closer to understanding than anyone.
How little like George Washington you are.
But you too live without the knowledge of the desert.
I am the only one who can find water there,
lifting a leaf
I can find dew.
No one else sees it; this night/ this lonely night
It is my life.
my self-sufficient
lonely
life.
Don’t see him. Don’t phone or write a letter.
The easy way: get to know him better.
I’ve got to tell you
how I love you always
I think of it on grey
mornings with death
in my mouth the tea
is never hot enough
then and the cigarette
dry the maroon robe
chills me I need you
and look out the window
at the noiseless snow
At night on the dock
the buses glow like
clouds and I am lonely
thinking of flutes
I miss you always
when I go to the beach
the sand is wet with
tears that seem mine
although I never weep
and hold you in my
heart with a very real
humor you’d be proud of
the parking lot is
crowded and I stand
rattling my keys the car
is empty as a bicycle
what are you doing now
where did you eat your
lunch and were there
lots of anchovies it
is difficult to think
of you without me in
the sentence you depress
me when you are alone
Last night the stars
were numerous and today
snow is their calling
card I’ll not be cordial
there is nothing that
distracts me music is
only a crossword puzzle
do you know how it is
when you are the only
passenger if there is a
place further from me
I beg you do not go
