When I held you I wrapped u in white
For fear that my skin would melt into yours
My skin would often peel away in my dreams, it would stay curly on my palm
And I would gaze at it, that which had once been the hope of a child, of skin made soul.
In my dream the skin would curl away and wither and I could not hold onto it.
Even when placed in white boxes with cotton pillows next to purple satin.
Even then the small peels of skin would wither away from living and I would be left skinless
The raw yellow hillside that scratches even chirrup cricket to silence.
I gave you to Tony, his hands held you fully, and plopped you happily in
The spaghetti pot, the perfect size for you, and I would reach down and drizzle water
For your pleasure in wonder and breathless acceptance of you, there, in our arms.
The arms of us together that made us we, that made us into you, that made us into me.
Before the fury of red car rides where madness flung me on the side of the road,
Or bail bondsmen asked for money to affirm my love , or of sucking partners who hurled you
Down the stairs.
I am so sorry that you can only chose pain to open doors, how it is the most
Familiar path to truth, and has led you here, there, away from me, us, we.
He is dead. He the adored one. And I , raw and skinless, am back at the beginning
Of finding the way out of the rageful epigenetic quarrel that follows us
l’dor v d’or, from time
Gone to time wide in light.
