Wine and Wildflowers
November 14th, 1986
How much sunlight was in your London,
Your Europe after old Brazilian places?
Beautiful in memory as all things are,
Tempting like breezes,
Europe repeated and sadly remembered.
So we seem defeated,
Who saw it through rain.
If no one wins then why do I feel so lost?
Lost most of all you, your care and caresses;
Not just you undressing but that part too.
Don’t think any more you might say over distance:
“But I feel empty and tight like a drum.”
You — I know not where — now part of a dream.
The sea, my red heart, the sky filled with clouds.
A feeling for art I once had, gone now.
The storm, the bed, and the long walks in the morning.
Wine and wildflowers, shivering with flame.