SENECA LAKE

Stay with me, please!

Don’t rush on by.

Take your time

to tell me

everything that is

on and in your

heart. I will hear

your grief.

I will hold it.

Let every word

between us be 

as long and as deep

as Seneca Lake.

Touch me 

with more than 

one finger. 

Let’s do nothing

shorthand.

We can move 

like glaciers, if we like.

There’s no need 

to hurry back 

to the goat market. 

The secrets inside 

our flesh will emerge 

when they’re good 

and ready. We aren’t 

stenographers. 

No one is on trial.

There’s nothing

to transcribe or report.

There is only 

your presence

and mine

and the terroir 

and the taste 

of our time 

together.