Slow-Motion Sleeping
Had I known, I would have said no
to this slow-motion sleeping,
but here I am, running backwards and
trying to touch my toes and tie
my shoes and tag you back all night.
Here, I am still so busy
finding work for these hands to do: I am
unmaking this mess of mama’s necklace knots, I am
catching rain and losing none, I am
folding fitted sheets into squares with right angles, I am
not still, and I am not, and I am still so sorry.
For now, please hold and hug
and memorize this long body for me,
I never found a way to love her like you did,
I was too busy disproving gravity
and god and getting good at everything else--
crying into swimming pools and
saying yes with a no-shaped mouth.
Had I known, I would have said yes
to reincarnation, sighing and slipping
into new and now to be with you again,
but even without a body, there I am:
in the shadows of that Goya painting and in
the cold spot on the wall behind it; I am
the space on your favorite shirt where the button’s missing,
and I am the missing button, too.
And if ever there are only
shadowless paintings and unbroken shirts, look here
for a reminder of who I am and was--
my mind is the small dot hovering just above this i,
my body is the comma in this sentence.
Had I known, I would have said no
to this slow-motion sleeping,
but here I am, running backwards and
trying to touch my toes and tie
my shoes and tag you back all night.
Here, I am still so busy
finding work for these hands to do: I am
unmaking this mess of mama’s necklace knots, I am
catching rain and losing none, I am
folding fitted sheets into squares with right angles, I am
not still, and I am not, and I am still so sorry.
For now, please hold and hug
and memorize this long body for me,
I never found a way to love her like you did,
I was too busy disproving gravity
and god and getting good at everything else--
crying into swimming pools and
saying yes with a no-shaped mouth.
Had I known, I would have said yes
to reincarnation, sighing and slipping
into new and now to be with you again,
but even without a body, there I am:
in the shadows of that Goya painting and in
the cold spot on the wall behind it; I am
the space on your favorite shirt where the button’s missing,
and I am the missing button, too.
And if ever there are only
shadowless paintings and unbroken shirts, look here
for a reminder of who I am and was--
my mind is the small dot hovering just above this i,
my body is the comma in this sentence.