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Your Garden

 

Juan-Paolo Perre

 

I believe I rolled over in my sleep last night

And before I could hear your footsteps

Descend on a fresh dawn of this month

Of October, you had already sealed and locked

The door behind you and joined the procession of stars

That recedes into the ever-growing brightness of the Western sky.

You couldn’t have been dressed in more than nightclothes

So when I woke and didn’t call your name

The house was full of questions.

All I expected I saw looking out over this early city

From a window of our house:

A series of long distance drivers and freelance deliverers.

Your bare shoulders flush and fluid as acres laid down on this earth

And I wonder what they tell you.

Some steady drops of pre-dawn light funneled through the palm

Of a leaf and the moon is a shattered street lamp

On the corners of Rattlesnake Drive and Fortune.

These days are becoming colder by a wind thinking a thousand thoughts.

The fruit of the vine is bursting magnificent grace, blushing

Into a thousand peculiar memories.

The snows can come now at any time in this part of the world.

You’ll try to count each and every flake and I’ll watch your eyes

Blur, fall and fail.

 

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