Spring Prayer
“I own you / said the old feeling.” —Jorie Graham
Picnic, grass.
Cattails stirring muck in spring’s breeze.
Blanket, scattered
items, crumbs; the magic light of afternoon
sun, honey
on his skin. We will never be lovers
now, this
day confirms it. Loons on the nearby lake
paddle, coo
that haunting call, like what the heart would
say, should
we ever give it words. I have known his skin’s
scent, texture—
stubble as woolen as the blanket we
share; mouth
with a unique, unforgettable taste. But
kisses, skin
aren’t the conversation today. Spring around
us, lying
about rebirth, the animals secretly
mating, parting—
they feel no longing, do they.
God, make
me an animal now. Give me this emptiness.
***
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Photo by Tinou Bao/Flickr
