Deep Purple Breaths
Yesterday I unscrewed the top of the
homemade huckleberry jam you gave
me before you left for Lisbon.
I took deep purple breaths to fill
my light pink lungs.
It was such a necessary experience;
the vision of you in my mind’s eye
atrophies each day, the Atlantic
between us casts foggy shades on
my eyes and the crystal clear memory
muddles like a lake after heavy rain
The anxiety of asking you a question
when I have no idea what the answer
will be, but have every notion of what
I wish it to be. It’s a 60 pound backpack
4 hours into an uphill hike, so I resign
my curiosity and just tap the Portuguese
postcard nailed to the wall beneath
the light switch every time I leave the house.
and hope that you would do the same.
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