Dear Mary and Catherine, |
I need to move but these pictures won’t let me.
My body’s in trouble.
Who am I writing to? |
Do those stares meet mine?
Are we sharing an impossible truce?
Is one of us not in exile (at any time and place)? |
terrified again
of not loving
of loving and not you
of being loved and not by you
of knowing not knowing pretending
pretending |
 |
There’s no nostalgia in this letter.
Nothing’s fleeting here.
Each of us is forever (unrepresentable).
We’re like songs or skits. |
 |
I want to feel what these pictures deny me.
When my body’s in trouble, in trouble, in trouble, who?
Who do I write to? |
Are both of you static as I shiver involuntarily?
Do your thoughts have to end before I start to think?
Is everyone always unknowingly together? |
I and all the others that will love you
if they love you |
unless they love you |
Who am I writing to? |
jeremy |