Unanswered Letter #81

Entering the spice markets I smell 
the simmering energy of yellow and red: 

turmeric, ground annatto seed, anise 
and sweet clove. I don't buy anything. 

I remember only how, once, not 
so long ago, I drew a warm bath for you 

with eucalyptus and cinnamon bark. 
Live your life, friends admonish me.

What does it matter that night dips
into darkest vats of color, that day

shutters the stars with light? I want 
to believe there were many things we shared 

that still make you feel sweet, that make you 
feel something when we say your name.  

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