Sport 40: 2012
Glass bowl with pink swirls
moves a little whirlpool, still,
reminds me of your last, small desires—
to dabble a hand in warm, soapy water,
playing the boundary notes of here
and not here, testing a surface
the beneath of which none of us knew.
To perceive you seeing nothing and everything,
to watch the loop of your hand in its benediction
or to sit at your feet with my hot cheek tilted
to meet the roll and stroke of soft ﬁngers,
was to be most steady and most moved
by your tender inﬁnitive. That keepsake.