[ from A History of Beauty ]
I have to leave the city to remember it.
Are there crows here? I ask
as a way of asking for directions.
A slice of. The smell of hair product
on the pillow. Would you rather lose your sight
or lose your hearing? Lose one glove or both.
In the city, the construction site
across the street from his apartment building.
The promise of another building. The symmetry
that keeps me coming back to his beautiful door.
When my friend lost her baby
the only thing I could say was
that healing is like a wave chart.
Think of time as a red thread
through a gray dress. It’s hard
to get on a bus without the promise
of someone waiting for you
at the end of those four hours.
Today might be better
than yesterday, but tomorrow.