this is a postcard
this is dusk from a fire escape
this is a tracing of the lines on your palm and a promise that won't be kept
these are the naked epistles you wrote to her
this is the shadow of a hand dipped in flour, smudged across the front of my black apron
these are the pennies dropped from canyon cliffs
this is the magazine where you inscribed my blue name in the margins
this is the morning as it tilts over the hills
these are words you wrote to me, "blue eyed and distant" at the coffee shop table in the corner of your bookstore
these eyes are "sky or sea, bound or free..."
these are my eyes. they are green.
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