Love is the kindest
expression
of absence —
Or else
is a day
by the river,
in which by
motion
it becomes clear —
there have been
in an hour an
infinite train
of rivers, & which
did you want
to see? One
comes slowly
to realize
there is no evading things
(the heart will have
its way, though
its will go
unfulfilled),
& there is no shame
in this.
The pleasures in this world —
soft breeze, soft
thighs, a bit of music,
words that make
a good sound —
suggest when taken
whole that the
thing
the body longs for
is not & never has been
some petite mort,
a true thing
known to grass
& the elderly man
with a kind word
in greeting. And
the woman saying
that she is about
to come, as in
going to arrive —
at last to fill
the body held so long
by stewards
in her name.