You Who Read This, I Remember You
I spoke of these things in a far away April,
how I once brought your name to blank verse
where bears dipped paws into vernal fish
which reminded us how to live, even to the last.
You were attentive, and gave me back your best.
The cup of your right hand would reach into the stream
and bring up a sun, full of morning glitter;
I could look at it and not go blind.
I felt as though it would light me up forever.
Things are like that now; in places that can't be seen
you and I whirl fur over ink, plunge in a pen
that grasps fish in flight, on their way to shine.
We stare straight at them, and then eat them with our eyes.
They glow in us, and we glimmer in our bear skins.
I spoke of these things in a far away April,
how I once brought your name to blank verse
where bears dipped paws into vernal fish
which reminded us how to live, even to the last.
You were attentive, and gave me back your best.
The cup of your right hand would reach into the stream
and bring up a sun, full of morning glitter;
I could look at it and not go blind.
I felt as though it would light me up forever.
Things are like that now; in places that can't be seen
you and I whirl fur over ink, plunge in a pen
that grasps fish in flight, on their way to shine.
We stare straight at them, and then eat them with our eyes.
They glow in us, and we glimmer in our bear skins.