oh where oh where oh where oh where
that is how this poem starts
in my mind.
i asked myself, ‘do you recall
where you left that emotion?’
but i couldn’t.
so i just bought time
trying to wait it out
by asking,
oh where oh where oh where

a whip breaking
the silence of night;
stooping too low
against a frigid breeze
that even flesh upon flesh
couldn’t warm.
i will not
be remembered as such,
but echoes said
i would.
the same voice that
whispered love to my wrinkles,
and in the same breath
scolded me for
unlabeled erotic poems.
now, i will remember
you as such.

why are you visiting
my dreams?

didn’t we share
everything

in waking life
that expressed our

desire? but now
i wonder.

in dreams there is
a gentle slowness.

the haste
and intensity

that burned us to the
ground

stays away.
and when i wake

i wonder if i should
reach out.

perhaps i should
extend my hand

and make tangible
the dreams that move me.

but i don’t.
no,

not anymore.
i prefer my dreams.

in dreams
i am indestructible.

i hold this in my mind.
after so long
i found the string;
the one i pulled
which broke apart
the pattern.
i fumbled for it
for sometime,
sitting amidst a pile
of threads
hoping and praying
i might find the end –
that i might find
the beginning.
now,
i can start to
reconstruct,
to interlace the threads
and weave a new
pattern.
i want to weave you,
your life,
into this.
to entwine us.
how do i ask?
i have tried.
i have.
the fibers of this string
are so worn now.
they are delicate.
i am delicate.
a body hardened
and a mind so sharp,
but my heart,
…my heart.
i have started
the pattern,
i have reached out my hand,
offering you the thread
so we can
weave together.
but i stop,
i have seen this,
i have felt
this.
i withdraw.
i weave through my heart
and mine alone.
i need to knit this
for me,
just for me now.