He was broken
and he was beautiful
it was one look, but it was everything
She was like a woman of Leonardo da Vinci’s, whom we love not so much for herself as for the things that she will not tell us.
from A Room with a View by E.M. Forster, 1908
winding and binding
and finding a way
into her stilled
and hollow heart
you were then, the age i am now–
i think about this in the dark and
scoop your image from my memory–
your young children will be grown,
your hair, fully silver–
of course when i meet you in my dream later that night,
we are as we were–
and i am desired once again
it was the emptiness of your gaze,
and the tilt of your head
that made a melancholy blanket of longing
linger past midnight and into the following day
You looked cold and wistful on the raised platform.
I wanted to touch your solid hand, but was discouraged
by the security cameras protecting your solitary stance.