I cock my head, a gun
that shoots concentrated
memory from one side
of my brain, to the other.
It's you, I want to call
back from our last
moment together.
I don't always fail
to find what I seek,
but today, I'm stuck
to that sound in your throat
of surprise that I should
want to hold you. Jarred
loose, here's your voice,
lost in a reverie, found
between us, a quiet remark,
about the wonder of nests
that we imagine bodies
are when we warm to them.
I have failed, still now,
to remove that sound
in your throat from my heart.

12/28/2007

Posted on 12/28/2007
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