Sunflowers

Sunflowers by Martha Jordan

My eyes flipped through the list of names
And I saw your's, your picture surfacing in my memory

But my heart did not skip a beat
My cheeks did not brighten with blush
At a thought that I did not remember.

I did not close my eyes and see that room of comfort
Your hand was not on my shoulder
Your face was not mere centimeters from mine
Your existence did not overwhelm me.

I saw your name on that list of long night conversations
But I did not want to speak
I did not even want to look.

Have you been replaced? It is possible.
But are you replaceable? Impossible.
your name is 
always before my eyes
always on my lips
always in my mind

but never in my hand.
Never next to mine.
Never next to me.

No matter how many times I 
See your name 
or write it down
or sing it out loud
or scream it with pleasure
It will never be my name,
And I will never be yours.

Understanding will never be 
as comfortable as your bed,
but it will make seeing your name tolerable.

(In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am sharing a poem each day this month.)

Your Absence

Separation by W. S. Merwin

Your absence has gone through me 
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color. 

(In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am sharing a poem each day this month.)

Pieces of Blue

What I'm playing with today: scraps of a linen jacket, Doug's striped shirt, a piece left from making a linen dress for Adeline, a pair of linen pants, some lovely vintage polka dots ... crosses, circles, blue, squares ... linen, stripes, patterns ... groups of three, groups of nine ... some of these elements we find since the beginning of time.

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 I don't know where I'm headed with this, but I assume I'll get there. Sooner or later.

A Prior Despair

A Prior Despair by Scott Cairns

After Kavafy

When I saw that I had lost her     completely, I sought the dulcet

taste of her on the lips of each     subsequent woman, her fragrant

flesh in the fold of every lover's     nape thereafter, and her heat

welling with my own and drawing     out an urgency in each

ambiguous woman met     in that tortured interim.

When I saw that I had lost her     I was lost, and held

my eyes shut tight that I might so     delude my wits as to trust

that it was she receiving me,     that it was she returning

with delight the urgent drive     against the unbearable

distance--two bodies, struggling     toward agreeable repose.

Then, tasting once a sudden kiss     so suddenly presented,

I saw another prospect rise     to view, and knew reprieve

from the familiar ring of hell,     from which I rose and marveled

at the offer of another life     whose heat and heady fragrance

rose, delirious to burn     deliciously, and not consume. 

(In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am sharing a poem each day this month.)

Whisper

Love Poem of Flowers by Victoria Maretti

Whisper
Drop peonies in my eardrums
Sew violets under my skin
Take all my fragrance in and 
Exhale
Pave a path of fuchsia petals
We’ll share baths with chrysanthemums, lilies, hydrangeas
And crown ourselves in wreaths of all the roses.

(In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am sharing a poem each day this month.)

Uninitiated Me

When Your Face Came Rising by Yevgeny Yevtushenko

When your face came rising
above my crumpled life,
the only thing I understood at first
was how meager were all my possessions.
But your face cast a peculiar glow
on forests, seas, and rivers,
initiating into the colors of the world
uninitiated me.
I'm so afraid, I'm so afraid,
the unexpected dawn might end
ending the discoveries, tears, and raptures,
but I refuse to fight this fear.
This fear-I understand-
is love itself. I cherish this fear,
not knowing how to cherish, 
I, careless guardian of my love.
This fear has ringed me tightly.
These moments are so brief, I know,
and for me the colors will disappear
when once your face has set.

When Doug and I were first dating, he made a point of showing me this poem. I assumed it was my face which cast a glow upon his crumpled life and, naturally, I fell in love with him. Now we've been married 33-plus years and I'm suddenly realizing it wasn't about me, except that he loved it and he wanted to share it with me and I guess that's just as good as having a glowing face. 

(In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am sharing a poem each day this month.)