IF YOU MUST THINK HER

 

 

I will advise you how.

 

Trace her bed sheets

with your night leg

in darkness of sleep

in twilight of memory.

 

Neatly open the menu

while folding her hand

then swim her flawless smile.

 

Ready yourself for bed

while listening to her

wonderful new philosophies.

 

Stroke her pharmaceutical hair

into the winds of New England

ignoring the sadness of subways.

 

Remember cryptocrystalline forms

with your hands and

the atmosphere of her last kiss.

 

Then take one more drink

moving closer to memory’s pollen

canoodled and scattered about

her unpressed, ancient petals.

 

 

                 --Published in the Homestead Review