Day Six

Title: don't let me leave

Early last winter, Jim and I took a trip up to the twin cities for a poetry reading he was doing at the Soap Factory. I was in a terrible mood, I don't remember why now, and I just couldn't shake off the intensity of the mood.

Some days are like that. Inexplicably sad. And when I'm having one of those days, I have trouble saying what I need to say. I speak in code, give only very subtle hints that anything is wrong, and I withdraw from the world.

After the mood had passed, I thought I'd sit down and write a little code-breaker, a kind of map, for Jim. Translation is that map (at least part of it).

***

Translation
- for the guy with good intentions

When I say
I’m going for a walk
and it happens to be dark
and the night happens to be cold
and we happen to be in St. Paul
in the shittiest part down by the Soap Factory
what I mean is
don’t let me leave

When I say
do you like my dress
the linen summer one
that settles just so around my hips
the one you asked me to wear
all last July
what I mean is
tell me I am beautiful

When I say
I’m tired
and I cry without cause
and recede like seawater into silence
when I weep for the dead and the undead
when I puddle and twist
and otherwise make a heap
of a body on the floor
what I mean is
pick me up
untangle the knots
put me to bed

When I say
tell me you love me
and then I am silent
what I mean is
tell me –
with your hands on my face
with your breath, with your eyes
as close as you can get
– tell me you love me