try to pretend this poem will just go away and leave me in peace.
But I know better.
Another love poem.
One can’t love too much.
Choosing to be vulnerable,
how do I capture in words
the beauty of sharing Thanksgiving with you?
cups clinking gently-
surrogates for our lips.
You urge me to offer a toast.
“To a spiritual awakening!” I exalt,
surprising us both.
I’m not greedy.
I’ll be pleased to share my awakening with you
if you will return the honor to me.
Intimate stuff for the strangers
we are likely to remain.
But maybe not!
There, glimmering on a green background
a note from you on a ten dollar bill:
“with love, Sara”
is sharing comfortable silence with a warm stranger,
perfectly willing to lie
bathed in shimmering moonspray
in total contentment-
not desperate to speak, and fill the void.
There is none.
Up- away from the cradle of the rich earth:
Looking into your Thanksgiving eyes:
Ah yes. I’m feeling thankful
on this traditional day of thanks
for you, Canadian revenant!
I wish you the joy you bring me.
(11- 24- 77)
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