daughter at the piano
dreams     so I quit
eyes start to wander
eyes—the farms
laid out in squares of brown and
fingers find the right notes
guitar is playing
heart beating once more
name and touch
Sometimes I think
never seen her
new piece none of us is ready for

And I
want not even touch you,
not knowing if they
would or should or could get off
not like this

not like you used to,

underneath my eyes
not nervous

since I put you down
thinking about it, thought
wanting to be phony
Nothing or anything
you may intend to
thought wrong
now empty glass

When you know the
memory,
someone you love with your
sweat or skin or
fruit or the juice
water running its
own course
on either side

But—oh!
wobbly half underwater
autumn morning,
one of them is on
One will point to a detail,
only add to the
sweetness of the moment

John Grey
06 24 23