hidden

November 14, 2019

Will I see you around the corner today?

 

My mom sprinkles sugar

onto Christmas fried dough

as the sun sets prematurely

on the other side of the window.

 

I used to tongue the sweetness

from my fingertips,

and our steps left prints

in the December dust.

 

(it will take

one million years for

neil armstrong’s footprints

to disappear.)

 

Are you hiding in the red curtains?

I heard they are somewhere in the woods

where the owls’ shriek and

the cacophony of human life

exist within the chatter of lovers.

 

I hear the folds fluttering

in the freedom of a spring night,

flailing against the rains that soak

them in newness.

 

(perhaps you are in the crocus

of many springs gone by.)

 

Tonight I landed at Saybrook’s shore.

Will I find you here?

 

The waves lap at the mudflats where

I hoped to see you standing

and turning

to find me, too.

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