In Focus

“You’re wonderful,” you said to me

once, resting your head

against a tabled book after I said something

or other that made your bright thunderhead

eyes crinkle

And I recalled a child's astronomy lesson:

That once, we were one flame

- a brilliant stellar roil -

now collapsed into these countless discrete forms:

The book, and

the things in it that troubled you.

The scarf that
you folded and slipped under

my cheek as I slept in

the library.

The current that coursed through

the filament that illuminated

you and me.

Though I only smiled dumbly,

forgetting how to speak.

These passing familiar fragments

somehow converging here

again. Meeting, as if never separated

by this long trajectory.

An eternity to spend drifting apart

interrupted, for only a moment,

by your head tilted in passing recognition.