I write this for your eyes and ears and heart

If it makes your eyes sore

                                 ears weary

The fog comes in, flatter
than ever. The air, apparently

is blue somewhere, not here.

The stars flow beneath the water
The clouds freeze or collapse
In laughter, lure like a pledge

The door behind me was you 
and the radiance, there like 
an electric train wreck in your eye 

Beautiful beyond belief
to look at you the whole way
would be to walk away maimed

I am very lucky but that’s not life.

We mean it when we way, “Be careful,” and yet it seems now we aren’t meant to talk. Talk is the pool-sweep and renewal notice, or else just a reminder that we’re on the phone.

 Of course that's what pumpkins do,
they grow
as everything in a garden does

My neighbor who tends the rhododendrons
across the street-mulching, fixing soil acidity,
watering by hose for a long hour each evening—

I know I scared you last night by shaking,
the only time you were forced to share
a dream that seemed so bad upon waking.