#39 Between the Branches
1997 – 12 x1 2 edition of 33 – $250
|Between the Branches
It was always snowing when I visited.
Rembering, I see you
again and again opening the door,
and then your face as if it mattered that I came, as if it made some kind of difference after all.
You’d offer tea
and one day, worrying that I was cold coming out of my boots, you gave me your rag wool socks to me to wear, warm from the radiator.
Each time I came there was less of you waiting, less hair, less fullness to your face, less energy. Only your elaborate eyes increased, taking my breath away
Sometimes we’d meditate. The aminals would join us. Or you would let me read to you,
I thought that there would be more time, that Spring might come and we might see a bit of it begin before you left us.
Every now and then I find myself looking for you.