The FabricThere is a flannel softness where you touch my
life, a loose, half-buttoned comfort with
tails hanging out when I am with you, when we
talk. I feel as if I have just come
home, thrown a log on the
fire, shedding stiffness like a snakeskin as I
hang the starched, pressed presona in the
wardrobe at central
casting and caress myself in my favorite
shirt-- the plaid one, colors fading, the kind that
loves you gently over
time, the onle you'll patch and mdend but
never throw
away.
-jwh-
Last WeekendIt was an exquisite
hibernation, our
passionate seclusion. We
shrank the
world to
eight-hundred square feet and then
possessed it.
-jwh-Spanish Love SongsI didn't tell you how
deeply it
moved me, hearing
you, seeing you
sing Spanish love
songs with your
body as if your
face, your hips, you
arms and shoulders were
appendages of your
soul. It was what I meant to
say when I told you I wanted
you to sing to me on my
deathbed, and what I held you
and you
cried, it
moved me
again in a
deeper place, which until
then, I didn't even know I
had.
-jwh-more love poems