The Break

From August, 2010

I dream often of the ocean, of waves I can never see beneath.

The other night I dreamt of you.
I told you "It's over," and you held on to me.
I might, deep down, be holding on to you too.

And you saw that! I know that you saw
behind my stone wall of calm words and logic.
Logic that says we have to let go.
I know you saw me,
saw me,
because your face shifted.
Your eyes kindly placed each stone on the ground,
coaxed my lips into yours,
and reminded me that I can never build a wall you cannot see behind.

Then we walked in different directions into the night.

All this has led me to a wooden porch with dried garlic hanging by the windows.
Inside, a bed is made for me,
and a grandmother waits with so much love in her eyes
the whole world must feel it.
The shelves are lined with poems.
There are blueberry fields out back.
I am thinking of you, and how you hate poems.
You are thinking of me.
Maybe we are even looking into each other's faces again.
Maybe we are sitting on that stone wall again and cars are driving by.
Maybe we are out at sea, treading water, unable to hold on to each other.