one.

...when we touch
we enter touch entirely. No one’s alone.

-Anne Sexton
THE TRUTH THE DEAD KNOW

You swing open a smile
and the sea opens inside me
the corpuscle of doubt turns
to periwinkle and dives through
cool October like a stone
my hand fits like
a small mercy on your hip
and lingers its ghost there
when not there- haunting
bone white light days,
with longing-
your eyes
smile and open in morning
with autumns unseasonable
warmth and the heart
that once died warms in
the last groans of summer sun;
your beauty and grace that
rises one full turn to
raise me up past the
dark brick and concrete of
the city and landscape a
man, from tidal rocks and sand
breathe- espuma life in to me a
instantaneous anemone of love
as constant as the days
rising light and hope
and life beyond anything
the dead may know-
because it is love that haunts me
here- and I long to be haunted