Tuesday, April 19, 2005


shy arms then hands touching
the first time
by the river


the first time I could speak,
I repeated astrological
forecasts and astral projections

of leaving the city.
your face lit up
at the unhindered silliness

and later

reading out loud to me
you comforted me
with imitations of Christ

and later again

you fulfilled a tearful
daydream of faithfulness.
you stayed throughout the suffering.


CS said...

It seems to me as though your poems are becoming both freer and more pregnant with meaning as you go along. This may just be subjective impression of mine. I especially like this one.

Carol said...

I used to write a lot of poetry from the sorrowful vantage point of a young single woman. I have only really returned to it with blogging. I am so taken with it again. (So much so that I am having trouble motivating myself to do the mundane aspects of being at home. See previous post!)
I really appreciate your comment about this poem in particular. I was pretty overcome with the memories.