Caitlin, full of Grace

daughter

of the son

of the father

of the underworld

lover

of those

not assembled

in one room

amongst women

blessed is me

who

is left

waiting at

the end of the line

blessed is you

amongst aimees

chelseas, lylas

annes & emilys

blessed is you

at the lesbian ball

amongst the bards

not at college

empowered amongst women

with lots of pubic hair

not impregnated by love

but spirits

poems between leaves

of salmon

in the copper canyons

amongst the Sam Hamills

& Suzanne Amperslans

needing something

shiny & metallic

involving muscles & birth

divining wisdom

at random

from old dictionaries

found on a bench

besides

long island

the cape

port townsend

san francisco

once a landlocked

child - somewhere

between virginity

& justice

brought up

amongst women

on a hill

fourteen streets

from a mountain

9 X 22

1969's ok

won't you bring me a

moment

of your time

amongst the

garden & the flowers

where we can't

tell the difference

between Leonard Cohen

& our telephone

conversation

It's 4 in the morning

but I'm afraid

it's not December

the music of Bill Clinton

likes is hard to remember

I know I'm not

your brother your killer

I once had a phone

sincerely, Al Capone

or something like that

the mountains

full of mist

I walked through

with you have

transformed

from Dublin to Kyoto

every person

must have a dog

to walk down

this path trodden

by people in uniform

sleeping has

become impossible

with you without you

it's really

the garbage & the flowers

in the dumpster

behind the flower market

& no one's ever

brought me tea

or oranges

or anything

from China

I'd settle

for your orange

hair in my crook

on a summer night

with no hope

of fall interrupting

amongst you

a woman

full of grace

with me

a man.