Remember

Remember
the citrus colors
of summer,
honeysuckle static
lullabies
and nights
roiling in thunder,
pomegranate on the porch
someone’s
father built.

Wooden chairs
clothed
in spider’s silk.
Hair a mess,
your silhouette
in the door
like a goddess,
to me
impenetrable
as ancient marble,

Sunlight golden eyes
besieged
by oceans,
by the wild,
by the ravenous
beauty of
the azalea
in full bloom,
fierce
and unflinchingly kind.

You stared at me,
dark hair
the floating frame
of memory,
yeah,
I remember.
I’ve forgotten
my last sunrise
but I remember
your kiss;

the words
finger-thick,
fading fast
on the mirror
by the bathtub:
‘you are more to me
than every drop of water
in every ocean
on every world
that ever was.’

the only way
I could ever
think
to say it
so your heart
would understand.
I remember.
How could I
forget
the

only
thing
that
ever
meant
the
world
to
me?
Remember?