Jennifer Moxley

From A Distance I Can See


You have a lovely and familiar gravity,

and like in the apartment of my youthful reveries

wach time I walk into you my city-bound Greyhound

rolls through the rain-drenched streets,

a lightscape full of traffic and wondrous people

lies ahead, once you’ve caught view they shall demand

the tapering of all your beautiful fingers,

they shall tell your eyes to stop shooting such glances

for they are blocking your lips from seeming

red as they are, and what of gentle memory,

it frames your face and returns home devastated

to inform me of such bouondaries shifting

that in them, as in you, my dreams shall rest just dreams,

the rain drenched city of adulthood, vanish in advances.