Michelle McGrane | tonight you glide intonight you glide in through the open window
on a cushion of jasmine-fragrant summer air --
and every song playing on the radio
is a love song.
an old ache I'd thought long forgotten
settles around my shoulders:
a silk cape meant only to be worn
on opera outings with the finest jewelry,
or nights of insatiable romance;
the kind where you hang on to every word,
and drown in each other's eyes --
you know how it is.
"full moon," I say, "it must be full moon,"
before consulting the lunar calendar. but no,
the moon is waning. there is
no apparent reason for this disquieting visitation.
and so I deal with you
the only way I know how;
the way I have dealt with
a hundred nights of your absence.
I submerge myself in what I do best.
tonight, dear one,
tonight I write for you
a love poem -- because,