where the writers are
now that you are here
Amazon.com Amazon.com
Powell's Books Powell's Books

sometimes, I wonder

who I am love - now that

you are here.

now that these nameless

fears and desires are named.

I am different now that you are here.

even at the market

I count my coins so carefully.

I picture you in the café

pouring cream into your cup

your hair rumpled like your shirt.

once, you told me

you did not have enough.

old things pass before me

like traffic on the street, like unread words

painted on bright placards.

tender things are left neglected

by weeks without care.

even my garden has changed.

I grow impatient with it

-for good things that ripen too slowly.

the reddest tomato, I would

pick for you.

alone, I would devour it

sprinkled with salt.

after the rain now, I rush out

to stare into the pan

and still I wonder

should there be more?