There is such a difference – a
love of her children exhaled –
& she inhales their love too –
[not prior umbilical lusts] – &
[in ignorance] she unties my
dislikes [all double-knotted –
my own love] – she gives me
a smile & knows nothing – in
return I grin [behind my face
covering] – & say nothing – in
time there may be time – but
I have less in hand – nothing
to hold to – no intertwinings –
no knotty moments – only in
sheets & lines & my eyes – as
our slim acknowledgements
maintain a correct space – as
we pass outside a shop & do
not stop to talk – I’m at a loss
having not ever talked to her
[me – still unsaid – unworthy]