Embracing you, I close my eyes, lose you anew,
Lover, wife. An aboriginal spin under the flesh
Of my lids reclaims a memory, a stopove, in,
Of all places, Endwell, N.Y. , the motel's TV
Dumbly blueing the room as we made motel love,
Figuring well in flickering blueness.
Evening snow is blue and what he showed -his fields-
For us moves more than the eye to awe-we live
Beyond the eye -he paints a world where we can be.
We're summering now, sweating, dried-out austere.
It's July, your month. Your small blue flower
Blossomed this week, it's yellow fool's face
And skinny beard grinning out of mint and herbs
And vetch, bright in all that green. Why is it
So late? As different and strange and beautiful
As you, my love, dear friend.
We're in a loom
And limbo of sheets, tightly unwrapping the skin
Of night together, sweltering. My moon-blind eyes
Uncover the long blue shadowed snowfields of Monet,
His gift to us. I discover you for the thousandth
Time, and it's new.
I can hear the gods sneezing
In the blue above cypresses punctuating Delphi's
Hillside, sneezing, the gods who love love, for love
Of us. I open my eyes, and you are you.