Laura

1.

Every poem is a giving and receiving
at least twice over,
once each in the writing
and reading
in the way that time
turns over in the prime act of breathing:
breathe in, breathe out.
Or, again, in parameters of meeting:
hello, goodbye.

2.

A poem is the next room over,
a few steps away,
that forever recedes with steps taken:
the passing train
that, noisy,
may freeze for an instant
and you see the face
that was never quite clear
in your dreams;
nonetheless, a face you have tried all your lifetime
to please.

3.

The miles slip by in a moment
past sun and rain
and the coming and going
of instants;
of hope and pain and boredom.
Poems are cellophane
like the film produced by a camera
through which, again,
we may re-enter, relive what is passing.
In a poem, we mime,
again, the words and the actions,
twist loops in time,
bend movement and space
to our need.

4.

Objective time is uncoupled
from objective space
and is replaced
by space-time calculations.

The spirit throws space-time away
to exist in rhyme
and lines that themselves
become timeless.

It’s a spirit world.

I go there just to see her face.
Even as I age,
her face remains always young.
Yes, her image fades.

In my world everything is fading,
but she’s ideal.
I have never kissed her lips,
still their softness feel.