From my friend John's calendar.
On the way home in the starry night we hold hands,
wonder what his parents must have been like,
what cruelty may have happened to him,
and you show me the belt of Orion,
clean and shining and always in place.
Remember this forever, then:
I cannot imagine not loving you,
even when this body is gone.
So if I ever die, look up into the dark
and find me hundreds of times there,
each place you can faintly imagine a line
tracing the shape of a valentine.
No comments:
Post a Comment