Come Again, Season of Love

Come Again, Season of Love


because pain is only         a structure of feeling

let me write to you in the language of dream 



summer was a kind of promise

bringing your mouth of amber

on my petunia-peeled skin

as you healed me bruise by bruise

all the time crying that

love was an impossibility

worse than dying



but I could not hear your plea

I was busy dreaming in your skin

as it rose and fell around me

imagining being your spring-residue 

bringing the ache for August back into your tired limbs  



but when winter wearied its frost on me

I hardened into an unkempt melancholy

and you were like a foreign country

whose fatal secret I could have discovered 

had the map of my body not shattered

and made me cry all the time 

that love is an impossibility

worse than dying



but this time you were listening

although you were also busy dreaming 

of soft rain falling on earth-skin 

where you would bury every structure of feeling 

that had made love into an impossibility


now pain is no more           a structure of feeling 

although you are silent like a tree in autumn 



after giving me a heaven of that unchanging season 

I know by the name of love 

whose memory with me

is worse indeed 

than your death without me 

What are you looking for?