She was like the moon—
I looked and looked but always
she was part-hidden.
______
(Strictly speaking) I
couldn’t know her well. And yet
I did know her well.
______
I know the perfect
arc of your spine the weapon
of your mouth’s request.
______
I know the pools of
light that dance on your collar bones
the silt of your yes.
______
I know the river
of your smile. I’ve been wading
through it for decades.
______
I know the knife edge
of memory feels realer
than the blood it draws.
______
I know perhaps most
of all the peculiar
violence of hope.
