As you lean and look into a long gone place
a veteran with no regret for horror
what tenderness I feel.
Tonight you pour out the whole of your Story
how the towel was thrown in
as you lay trembling and afraid
in a disused siding
on a train car’s splintered boards.
There are god-like shapes in the spoons of your hands
for a spooned out hole in my being
I know your Truth fits mine
and so the ragged pain of that belonging
stays lodged behind my eyes
gently suffering beneath the pia mater
as you stave your way into the mulberry dark night.
My unfinished whole swoons after you in dreams
into St. John’s Wooded streets.
