More Than You
I am an omen with two last names,
a tissue box awaiting influenza.
I am eyes that stay and stay,
constant as rent, or war, or thirst.
I am the fourhanded clock you forgot,
a wool sweater hanging in a cave of ice.
I am a woman in a red silk suit, shining
in the glow of a luxury theatre; on stage,
an octet plays their clarinets for me.
I am a note you scribbled to yourself
the morning you saw two suns rise
over happy traffic. Oh, if you
could read me now! Oh, if you
had listened to my door!
from Undercurrent Blues