“You scared me!” You pointed at me.
I did not mean to, my love; I did
not mean to unlock myself so that
I could not close up once more,
a healthy boundary, to be sure.

“You scared me,” you told me
over the phone. “I can’t handle you.”
as if I was a jigsaw puzzle put together
and wavering over a vast ocean,
the wind threatening my togetherness.

Something threatened us, that’s for sure.
Perhaps you counted how many times
you said I Love You and the number
was too high. Perhaps in my fragility
you could not see my power –

always there, but perhaps you had
to know me a little longer to know that.
You turned me to stone for two days,
you with your unworkable answers,
your determined look-away.

The crumbling was hard to resist –
as I said – I had unlocked my life
and let you in, didn’t want to let you go,
but you were not ready for my life.

The sidewalk is hot from July’s breath.
I stay inside, sit in front of the box fan
which blows my hair back so it
feels like your fingers. I sit until
chasms are closed, until I close my heart

once again, lose a little bit
of trust, learn a little bit more
about love: that nothing
can reproduce it.

08/07/2007

Posted on 08/08/2007
Copyright © 2024 Lisa Marie Brodsky