DagaDana

from the four corners and silence of the room
outside the window, a February thaw –
a letter to your lips and your hands dearest
raindrops like music on the glass door –
it’s so far to you and so bitter,
it’s too much, over fields over sky,
I’m drowning in twilight and blue smoke
like the poplars in the fog at the roadside
maybe I should go into town
and spot trains passing through the station
and look at myself in the puddles
they are deeper than washbasins –
a letter to you about everything to you dearest
about love and about cold tea
about a walk with the moon in our hair
about all that can’t be