a new poem...

fresh from a few minutes ago (I anticipate writing a book's worth on this particular subject):

winter notes; for Cynthia

as thin wisps of silver
climb
the edges of my brain,
my memory slips
so I have to write
some things down:

the swarm of starlings
over the midtown
skyline
in the pure purple orange
of a cold winter sunset;

how several distinct flocks
blurred together
then
were torn apart
into dappled shadows
and negative space
in the
watercolor light;

how you pointed them out
from beside me
before I could miss a chance
at
forging another memory;

how the scene became faint
as
the darkness came on;

how later
while we slept
I awoke
when you covered me
with a blanket.

"you were shivering,"
you said.

and if I
didn't say it then:

thank you.

for
everything.


cunningham
06