La Petite Vie

Love is the kindest

expression

of absence—

Or else

is a day

by the river,

in which by

motion

it becomes clear—

there have been

in an hour an

infinite train

of rivers, & which

did you want

to see? One

comes slowly

to realize

there is no evading things

(the heart will have

its way, though

its will go

unfulfilled),

& there is no shame

in this.

The pleasures in this world—

soft breeze, soft

thighs, a bit of music,

words that make

a good sound—

suggest when taken

whole that the

thing

the body longs for

is not & never has been

some petite mort,

a true thing

known to grass

& the elderly man

with a kind word

in greeting. And

the woman saying

that she is about

to come, as in

going to arrive—

at last to fill

the body held so long

by stewards

in her name.