In the unnamed begging hours,
In the remote blue, when the darkness of night has burned down
I loll in the barren belly of half sleep, revisiting our history. I can see you
Beneath the snow and streetlamp in that coat
That made me think you announced the weather. Winter had thrust forward
His granite knuckles, but we had swung wide, dodging the blow.
In his own way , he apologized for his bitterness, linking
Each of your eyelashes in a string of pale white kaleidoscopes.
In my imaginings we are always more beautiful,
And the walkways where we stood are part
Of a city worthwhile. A metropolis considered
From airplane windows, placed in good light, each street
Flawless, neighborhoods distinct,
Our very avenue admired upon landing.
My body remains together, though you have been subtracted.
You lifted off.
The city is removing
A building from the ground near my new home. In these moments
Before the beginning, when the dog is breathing deep
Beside me, I listen
To the workers fire their steel voices through winter smoke.
Schoolboys, with wives for mothers
They Hold rounded thermoses close. One has a funny look, an unfocused sort of grin.
You would have pointed him out, yet only as one would notice
A strip of gold hiding in the crease of a grey morning.