I am alone in the loveliest way
twining petunias in my hair,
and cupping the showy begonias. I am
full of love in the loneliest way,
the way that wishes to share and
show something wonderful with another.
I am learning to be with others,
my tongue seeking out syllables though
it is not used to the cadence.
I am learning to be by myself,
and there’s nothing harder
in such a beautiful garden.
inbetween and uncharted,
dwelling alone on the day of lovers
thinking of a misshapen thing, wet and
wretched in the deepest crevasse of the past,
with a feeling of revulsion – a twinge of longing,
hoping for an impossible message or a long-late call…
know that the day was long although
the night is longer, and the dawn is brightest
when the cool air of the morning does not chill,
but fills tired limbs with vigor; the spearmint tingle
of slow-spreading realization, like a lost sailor,
far removed from the drowning dozens,
watching ships come in
from the horizon.