A few hours later, you were trying to rebuke grief. You smiled, leg-working, lori iro…
Late at night making love, peignoir
& a glaciated window, you touched me everywhere
In this poem, i remain a dog, barking at the unseen in the middle of the night,
Measuring its agitations by a quadratic formula…
I look at the portrait of my father again
and see in his big smile an ocean where
my mother bathes on its shores.