I etch love letters with the tips
of my fingers
I’ve lined your armor thin with time
There’s several cacti in the desert
more beautiful than I, yet
[We don’t see, you don’t see
that Queen of the Night]
& it must be such a privilege
to wander your village in any time
or space
I imagine the curves of your face
& where it might be rigid through age
but smooth /though soft
I hope your eyes
have never changed
like a distant remote lake,
UNtouched by thrashing fate
Wisdom gained, never cancelling
their gentle wonder
I think you’d wish the same
–LM