January 19, 2009


by Lyn Lifshin

It was December
and yes finally
you wanted me.
We ran down the
slick narrow road.
Houses leaned
together the colors
wine and brown.
Remember the cracked
snow, our scarves
floating, getting
there out of
breath, our
hair melting.
Boots clicked under
the door. There
were quilts on the
sloped ceiling
and the old
stove you smiled
toward going to
heat up some
coffee. I kept
looking around
to get it right:
your suede jacket
hanging in several
places. Your
mouth was
corduroy I wanted
to touch
but even in the
dream, every
time I came
close to you
the place that was you
changed to air

*Lyn's website:


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