The Blue Snow

The Blue Snow

Right now, somewhere, someone is thinking of you.
Lifting her arms into the summer
evening, or folding a letter in a small room,
someone is thinking your name and quietly saying:

"You came into my life on the 23rd
after dinner, when light fell through the window so starkly
you said it reminded you of a Japanese painting
called The Blue Snow, and I laughed, thinking,

who is this man who talks like a poet? "
Now, while it is still light, someone
is stepping out of her dress and thinking:
"I will turn off every light in this house

and lie down naked in front of my mirror till dawn,
then go to the window with the early morning sun on my breasts,
waiting for you who will never come by, you
who have forgotten what it is to be lonely."

Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.