stillife

i wonder if memory
finds a way to say thank you
when leaving cities
romantically inclined to
the summation of a smile
when he was tousled,
unkempt and his skin
felt like the gravel beach
we walked at evening
when he tried to explain
how the cosmos was heaven
and he had claims for entry
because he said prayers
quietly alone

what stuck was
a sturdy set of hands
until whiskey made them shake
the man became the boy
lost for a moment in dark doors
and a mind that closed itself
when i mentioned life was all we had

the lily felt more sacred
than the cheek that wept for him
laying in his blue serge
skin like wax fruit
in his mothers kitchen

she asked me
'how do you love someone
you hardly know?'

'with everything you do'