Wednesday, May 02, 2012

Open Spaces




Open Spaces
by Kevin Cahill


when she looks at me
I understand only
that we have to get
this close
to see how infinitely
far away
we are from one another
I have to caress her bare skin
carefully, tenderly
to feel how far we have
stretched the tissue of gesture
the skins of words
that clothe us barely
and when I look into her green eyes
I understand only
that I might not be
here or there
that to dwell daily
in the heart of open spaces
that to fall nightly
into their spiraling silences
is to be held aloft
even if only for an emerald instant
before I behold those eyes
dart down like falling stars
and, plotting their trajectory,
I spy the safe harbor of a
hardbound book on the bedspread
or the narrow, familiar terrain
of her own wrist…
and when at length,
her eyes are swept
back up to me behind
their lovely lashes
I understand not even
this much


June 29, 2007

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