Before and After Meeting
The Beloved
I.
Surrendering
another knife to the TSA
I seek the Beloved in every face.
Where does the Beloved live?
Maybe in this heart, or that one.
She gazes through these eyes, or those.
If I see her in yours, what then?
My cheeks, so soft now from shaving,
Long for her touch.
Whose is the hand that now
Reaches out to caress my face?
II.
Just As
Easily It Could All Disappear
When I looked up from loading the car
You were gone.
The shadow of the mountain
Falling across the pasture,
Empty now of all the festival vehicles,
Drove the evening chill deep inside.
Driving back north in the darkness
I remembered your face as a
Place my hand could still touch,
The same hand that then reached for
The phone with your message on it
And held the tiny slab to my cheek.
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