1 New Poem

Opposite Charges

One day, you’ll be the rain,
electric in form,
no longer so entrapped, enraptured
by passing of skin from itself,
and lighter now for being left.

But I would chase you,
still remembering,
the weary way I looked at
old postcards of Italy,
how women bathed in seaside waters.

Letting go: one day,
you’ll be the wind and we’ll rush
through each other as we
stop from now, still
selfish in our present shapes.

Mesh and interlock, go forth
for closure sought as less shame
and more the possible past
we had as name etchings in

Winter ponds from breeze branches.