a castaway washed to the edge
of desire, beyond which
I no longer know how to live
— Kay Byer
Is the edge of desire as much desire
as you could possibly have
or so little that you can’t remember
what desire might once have been —
where I have been for a long time
the Bobby McGee place — nothin’ left to lose —
in that place, where I thought I was when Susan died
nothing turned out to be someone too big to lose
too present, too comforting, too unexpected,
a Southern gentle woman moored fast,
rocking softly in the middle of my life
the touchstone I touched daily & was touched by
so often we would post our poems
within moments of each other
across the country (the world) from each other
ten plus ten fingers tapping
Susan recording an armadillo
while I set down another sudden bloom
how we called out to each other
& never failed to respond
this is what I now know not to be nothing
to be the something I held closest & most dear
no longer castaway, my fingers & toes
cling to what is not empty space
what is all solid ground
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