I see your image always on the foreground

***

I see your image always on the foreground

Of my morning walks, my attic sunsets,

All my verses are as much for you

As for the snow and seas.

Quite evenings at home are not –

Malaise when you are further than my skyline.

Life with you away

Is not,

Is a directionless kinetics,

The only energising force

Are letters –

Their possession and their lack.

I repicture beaches

We’ve swam together,

Your melancholy put in charcoal, Greek earth or horta –

Sketches that make us human,

A return to one small bedroom

Of the childhood,

A multiplicity of hopings,

Underneath my silence and obedience

Lies wonderment

In waves of words,

In Dolomites of passion.

Anything worth having

Can NOT be owned.

I arrange your letters and wash bed linens.

Candle flakes are frosted liberally

On the kitchen table.

Plants are entrusted to my neighbours

For care.

Only in retrospect it’s possible to measure

The strength and quality of longing

For you, my dear,

Also – the inconsistency of habits of mine,

My faithfulness to memories

Of you surrounded by kittens,

By windows in Monemvasia.

I keep your postcards under my pillow

They are my first ‘want’,

Always on the foreground

Of my dreams.