The Story I Tell

The gates, the gardens, the windows, the sky, the ledge of  bricks, the fallen leaves, the porch where I kissed you long ago, the name you unraveled inside my head, the piece of a body stuck to the wall, the ticking clock that caught in your teeth, I read a book, I take a walk, I swallow the sky of here and now, I shake my pockets to hear my coins, I move the table from here to there, I struggle to struggle with honor and truth, I remember the hair that stuck to your lips, I taste your lips with the hair on my tongue, I whistle alone when the light is dim, the stove, the sofa, the creaky door, the bed, the blanket, the common bonds, the morning rays, the salty skin, the story I tell of the story we made, September, October, November…