For My Biographers, Hints of My Lover

Earth, air, the whole astronomy, more,
coffee, chocolate, hops, more
underwater aerodynamics, more

star-blue paper: I never
wished and got. Instead, brimmed
in the wish's blank spot.

Years like a comb, hair like a road.
Been about to say l could meet early,
about to ask for dinner,

somewhere with hazelnuts,
somewhere named Lark or Persimmon,
but let's not spend money. Longing,

ride to me over the mountain. Yes, I know it's sinking,
but I'm only half-romanticizing
in my little song of porch swing and sorghum,

my native tongue, despite the world, speaking Gold,
though I practice Tire-tread, though I'm taking
conversational Pea-gravel, thankful

to have at least distance
to think of, light year,
Leonid, ultrasound. Sometimes,

the tight weave relaxes. Tisket, a tasket.
Sometimes I tidy the desk.
In some things, I'm consistent,

basket heart, the green and yellow days.

Copyright © 2007 Molly Tenenbaum All rights reserved
from Meridian
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission