Love
sometimes I wish she was my mother
or at least
that I was married to one of her sons
we have so much in common you see
the years together at school
the city we both have a firm grip on,
(I left while she stayed
to tough it out for the sake of all South Islanders)
and scars on our chins
in '92 she marked my essay
delightful and lovely
my knowledge of amphora vases
exemplary
I read so meticulously
all the notes to her poems
the dedications of love
to the man in her life
and the children
and friends and children's friends
(the beauty she constructs
circles her, a safety orb
better than any husband)
I would like to go
and stay with her
at her beach
much like my own
we'd walk the dog
and drink tea from herbs
she'd grown herself
despite the thick salty air
I would tell her about my parents
and the time I fell off the side
of a building
she may know of
and when she tells me
to visit next time I'm down
we both know that I will
April 2005
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