I wish I could still hold you
like I did they night they tore thr place up,
when glass was flashing down around us,
and you hid your fear in my shoulder,
and I pulled you into me
as though I could shuffle oour ribs like cards,
and fold our hearts like two supplicating palms,
like a prayer.
I would hold you so tightly
that my guilt, and your cocaine,
and no man
If I were a man,
I would hold you better,
you would love me like you don't.
But I am a girl even in my dream,
where I am flying over the dark lawn
to the little room we shared,
and it smells like sweet olive
and gardenia and the slow river.
I hover with my hands on the window,
and you are there, but I am shut out,
fluttering against the panes
like a moth to your light.