Poetry

Memory at These Speeds

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I love these hours alone I do
not
like them. Like them, I am
slow to divine
meaning from change, meaning
I love you & remembering
waking next
to you like a white gull against a white sky
become blue
I feel detached, although I realize
this is the drift of happiness it is not
my choice
yes I like you
for it. Faith
for this moment is living
with a fear
I will lose you or myself,
each arousing
the other,
eternity!

that spectacular hour in the afternoon
when you arrive & suck me
as if it were through time
we are reconciled
or in dream,
the desert we return to
heaven
all that disappears
when we look back,
for this time we are lovers we are
moved by the sea
in a studio with aqua floorboards
& white lamps now like stars inhabiting a pattern
now random.
Never let ourselves be subject
to either dependence again
or pain. Where once there were so many
words we had to choose
between us,
your sentence effortless as mine is fair.

Jane Miller, “Memory at These Speeds” from Memory at These Speeds: New and Selected Poems. Copyright © 1996 by Jane Miller.

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