~ for Jenny and Karen
You know the beginning of certain
dreams by the signals they send—
Chime ringing behind one door
at the end of a long hallway, clocks
unpinning themselves from the wall;
beautiful staircases in love with nothing
but themselves, going in perpetual
spirals. There might have been days
that felt like half a wishbone buried
in a book. There might have been
rooms in which some closets were locked,
but also others where light was sufficient
furniture. Think of that space where
the sound of your name, spoken aloud,
was enough. Tell me, how is the taste
of hunger also the shape of the only cup
from which you would want to drink?
Sometimes what the heart longs for
has really always been there– A circle
of stones shielding the fire from wind.
A row of pots on the balcony, cats
nosing among the sage and mint.
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