Letter to Donna

That I walked as far
As the shore, to retrieve the stones
Where you charted their
Breath, and said, I cannot
Carve my name here. That I
Broke down in the woods,
And followed the crumbling
Bread-trail home. That I
Tried, as a cripple might grasp
At a hem, to mingle
With grace. That I laughed
Wrong, where your eye
Caught the light.

I had purchased the banner
At cost, and tried out my army
On the torrid plain, until conquest
Proved too steep a plan—
What I’d wanted, was
An only summit, and as I
Arranged my guesses as true
As any general could form,
My wounds blew sad rounds, of
Loud, perfect color, enough
To astound, though now,
They gasp, and hold none
Of their truth. Truth is,
I began to undress them--
Now I fear that one distance
I knew, is close.

I wanted to fess, to tell
You, from under this gummy collage
Of random scraps, that I
Recognize the selves, those
Always asking for seconds,
And then: arrested, for
Impersonating a saint, or
A professor emeritus, and selling
Inflated cartoon animals,
Slathered in unlabeled cadmiums.

I wanted to tell you, too, that
I know this street, and the litter
It has purchased. What others leave
To others, what Time delivers, under
Her breath, to nobody, and
Anyone-- or how a leaf, something
Left, says, as I was, and am now
Undone, well, this is my neighborhood.
This is my town, and I can lie
Down in this lot-- I’ll know,
When it’s time to get up.