I have written my poem ‘Somewhere’ a while ago for a person I was very fond of, the relationship did not last but just yesterday the poem was accepted for an anthology entitled ‘Bad Language’. I was very pleased to learn that it had received some acknowledgment and amazed at how the poem had held on to an emotion that had passed. This anthology will be printed and distributed, soon people will buy it, and lend it to friends and maybe be even give it away as gifts, some will not like it and give their copy to charity and some will squeeze it between two old books on the shelve and forget it was ever there! Whatever the case the poem (alongside others) will be read and passed on, someone might read it and say “hmmm this is kind of sweet!” all the while the person subject the poem entirely oblivious to how that single moment of pure affection composed in this short verse continues to linger to them.
The poem here is doing what a poem does best; binding the beauty of something that no longer exists, but I will always know.
He hides somewhere
between the skin and the skin,
and pressing my warm cheek against
the cold window I dream I’ve somehow
I hold him between my lashes when I sleep.
Each thought of him, an autocrat
oppressing my every other thought
moving my hands in a knitting motion
composing him little verse of longing
tying them in red velvet ribbons
blowing them gentle kisses in the wind.