Here is the silky slip of hair
between my fingertips; Julia
whittling my waist with her legs
to see the Lincoln Memorial,
Her sucker sweet cheek near my face
and our breathes brushed back by the
chill autumn air. Here is the easy
hand up, Julia's cartwheel on the marble
wall, Francesca's visage in the
reflecting pond. She is
water and sky and the crimson,
amber, cinnamon tinted leaves and her
eyes level, spot on.
Her chin is true north.
All the porcelain of my life is
pulling together. All my joy is gathering
swept up in this vortex; surely
happiness and forgiveness will follow
for the remainder of our lives.
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