Breath in an Envelope

How will I ever lose the image of you sitting by a window
and the window expanding ever as you fly?
How will I remember the way you say my name, you
can't, except with everything you say, you let me say it?
Your face too uncomplicated to wonder at, or even look for,
I won't remember how your lips fit your chin,
I won't forget it was like always holding a warm hand
even in winter when we were stiff with cold.
How will I ever lose your head in my arms, your
hair under my hands, black and forever?
When you sing I've already left you, you're so lost.
I can't listen to your child's voice airing a song
I have to breathe it. How will I remember
to breathe like this?
When you hold my hand, when you are happy
not speaking, I've already lost you,
I can't keep such an ache,
it is enclosed in this moment.
breath in an envelope.

nov 2, 08