Schubert Quartet No. 6

In furious packing
the switch of two wife beaters, black

In haste, yours joined
me on my journey back.
Mine, for you, was left behind.

I wouldn’t have noticed
if you hadn’t said, but you did
and I did.

Friday morning I put
your black shirt on
and for the day
it brought me the memory
of your skin on mine.

It offered memories of you next to me
and helped alleviate some of
that ceaseless longing
to be again joined to you.

This dance and the memory
of the dance
and the feelings of the memory of the dance
is a particular province
of the insular,
yet benevolent and hopeful …

This dance and the memory
of not one, but two bedrooms in Rhode Island
in the dark of night
under green boughs of maple
and above blue bowers of hydrangea
and in your arms,
and in my mouth,
and in the touch of a finger
to that happiness
that you not once or twice
or thrice or more allowed me…

(In the pleasure of bodies
next to each other
(that I had denied or forgotten.)

You are a gift and a joy and a treasure
and you inhabit a string quartet numbered 6
and sometimes,
of late and oftentimes
guide my hands
and gives voice
to what is within
but has no means
of uttering,
this delight that you brought
and continue to bring…

It brings the touch of my ear on your chest.
It brings your lips to my shoulder.

This simple black piece of cloth
brings the feeling of my hand
at the back of your knee
or my cheek brushing yours.

It brings a feeling of comfort
that led to the wonder
of you and I entwined and enjoined.

This cotton, black
laundered.
This cloth,
certain on skin,
carries me through the day
with memories of
you standing next to the bed,
taking this shirt off
and putting it in the basket
before you climbed into bed
to kiss me.

And, that feeling of comfort
that led to the wonder
of you or I
or you and I entwined and enjoined

and we will again
and again.