What binds the atom to us?
Or us to the atom?
Where in the molecule’s matrix
Resides the eternal me?
When in the sun’s perpetual burning
Did my mortal flesh emerge
To tread the earth and make a noise
And interact with you?
I caught a raindrop
Slipping from the wet awning.
It was you, my love.
The maples’ golden glory,
So many bare of leaves.
Do our memories similarly stay?
Against the grey sky
A uniform wet canvas
You were the blue brush stroke.
When the sun’s long, langorous rays
Gild the wet parking lot in russet gold
I think of your laughing face.
Heaven must be a fiery place
A swimming in light and warmth of love
Heaven must be a beating heart
A return to the cocoon of the womb.
I ran my hand along your silky forearm
Bare, there, upon the morning pillow.
And each sweet soft silvery hair I touched
Sang of your gentle sleeping.