I found your blog
thought about leaving some message
hesitated, what to say?
rainy nights. a thunderstorm I opened the door to
100 pounds sopping wet, 6’2 and
your skinny ribs poked like elbows
that was so long ago
the thoughts I have now are of
a uniform spine of stephen kings
for a long time I wondered if your bookshelf gave you nightmares
you can’t spell stephen without part
of my name. I don’t know why
I am thinking of you
maybe it’s because the day is grey
and rain threatens. You did too.
You are memories of a cold house
ice for veins, strained dinner conversation. I hope you have grown
up to be nothing like your father.
Five years ago,
Carlisle station. There was snow on
the line and I told you
I no longer wanted to be part of your
Paris-proposal whole. Our
months were ugly and throttled and
I have only just decided to forgive
a love presented
as a present
but packed with tacks
I forgive, and forget.