New Year’s Day, 2017
for Agnes
Everything I have always dreamt of
is nearby. I look
up at the sky
and the clouds rearrange themselves
into the shape of your face. I listen
for the sounds of winter birds
and hear your voice. Even the scent
of bread baking in the oven
is yours: lips, breasts, hair.
Now every breath I took
before I began inhaling you
seems a wasted motion,
a fiction gearing up
towards some deeper truth.
My hands hunger
for the solace of your flesh,
my mouth craves
every taste of you.
Oh Liebchen, who
would have ever thought
a year could begin like this–
every fiber of my being
calling out only to you
and you calling back.