The Evening Light Remembered with Uncertain AnticipationI wish to be admired by others, and not left
to carry their refuse to some nocturnal site.
Do believe: it is my hope to not be seen
as one more thing hiding out there, stilled
in the herbaceous forage. The rain can, and does,
renew some aspects of this life for those of us
who enjoin reform. Sharing coffee by a river,
or on an interstate—gazing from a warm room
through broad windows I see us standing out there
among the restless and the all-too-lesser in scope.
Time, it appears, is ubiquitous or unkind—and then
even that grows superfluous and memorial in aspect:
I watch you disrobe and roll onto your side
of the bed. Your breasts swell with each breath
as you seem at ease with the moment, sleepy.
rdking