Not Something To Be Captured, Did You See the Signs?

As if I know what
            I'm doing—he marries
me. Did you hear that,
            yes, the line of dolls
hung up on the bush
            is too obvious? Rather
better: the spoon
            full of milk left alone
in the broken palm—the ghost
            song skidding out
the pane—in his arms I am
            still—but is still the best
way to beat this heart in-
            to ticking? My ring
finger aches—we know it
            is just winter knocking—and the swallows
agree that this hour is
            a fine one for freezing,
me ? I've got glue to melt
            and reins to unbreak, mine
are needles dancing at top
            speed under the skin quilt—
pull it round you—I will
            shiver red and wakeful, but don't
ask me what
            is going on. It's better
if you keep your returned
            "I love you" to yourself—better
if I can let mine
            out into the faint
haze around you not
            to be answered, better
to wonder, emptying, so
            much better to wait—

Copyright © 2009 Lucy Anderton All rights reserved
from Crazyhorse
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission