You were a poem
I could never recite
when selected amnesia
pressed against my cheek
came pill popping mornings
you weren’t by my side

inside
there are black windows
there are sculptures
of dreams on paper

or outside
nights in the yard
cock-eyed from beer
curling one little finger
around what seemed
untouchable
unimaginable
in the affirmation
words cannot reach
the contours of your eyes
orthe back of my hand falling
down along your shoulder

but Doc says
its for my own good
its for the good of poetry
its for reasoning with the gods
who sent you here
that you were a poem
I could never recite.