For A

i got your
letter
last thursday

it had been
raining

you would have liked it
you would have said

it was nice

pulling the
envelope
out:

the return address
only
your nomadic
name

breaking
the seal was

your chin
on my shoulder

12 am
last year

you made
me grilled cheese
sandwiches with
yellow Kraft singles

and laughing we
leaned over
your deck railing
to catch the passing
train

late night
cigarette light
smoothing
over
your cheeks

but your words now
tracking rapid frantic
across the page

betray a loneliness
i knew haunted
you then,
now
it seems

it has not yet
left

you talk in
circles
that stick
foggy on my eyes

weeds growing
gnarled and thick
over a tomb

so much you
it makes me
cry

leaning heart
heavy

holding your letter
with trembling pale
hands

i hurt for
you

too
because

i know
how hard

it was
to
write
such

delicate
words

i take
your face
in my hands
and tell you
it is all beautiful

it is all beautiful
it will not hurt you

and

you would have liked it
you would have said

it was nice