Three Poems II

Entropy

It's not the fact that now you walk
with someone else. Nor yet,
that when you kiss, the pain and pleasure
etched upon your face
ripples through the space-time of my love.

It's not the fact that memories of love
grow cold. Nor yet,
that when I think, the image of your face
slowly decays, and carbon-14 dates the time
when you and I -

The prehistory of my heart leaves no trace.
It's only when I wake
and fine her here, cradled in my arms,
I know the thing:

a white dwarf,
dying amid the matter of itself,
outward bound.


Sentinel

What could be more innocent than this?
Love's terrible beauty,
measured in your body's form,
lies next to me.

My arms enclose your waist;
your quick, silent breaths,
patterned to the rhythm of your dreams,
encircle me.

The texture of your tongue and mouth,
the perfume of your hair,
the warmth of eyes now closed
and dwelling on your dreams -

I keep them close, sacred and loved.
Precious one, this is why I lie awake
tonight: to see your aching loveliness,
so vulnerable, yet safe.


Amateur

Dark shapes
hunched against the night:
man and telescope,
we gaze into the sky,
hoping what we find
will resonate with truth.

Do we do this
thinking that we better humankind?
That if
we stare into the dark,
we'll find that point of light

familiar to us all?
Who thinks such thoughts
at times like this?
We see by light
refracted from the red,
the Doppler wail an old cadence:

the siren song of life.