an orchard of my sentences i sowed
for you admitted spring in august, budding
long after you had gone and coming so
ungainly that i dropped my pen a sudden
twitch i had lost my right. you laughed your palm
to chin my chin to palm when
night there was nothing left to whisper on
the ear and now the poem can begin
to flood syntagmas maples turning branches
and palm hip indistinguishable from
you dolphin you slipping trunks or
my fingers, and sheets and blot and come
undone as we have beaches briefly sober
enough let’s start the world crossing over
August 28, 2020