Touch Me

Summer is late, my heart.
Words plucked out of the air
some forty years ago
when I was wild with love
and torn almost in two
scatter like leaves this night
of whistling wind and rain.
It is my heart that’s late,
it is my song that’s flown.
Outdoors all afternoon
under a gunmetal sky
staking my garden down,
I kneeled to the crickets trilling
underfoot as if about
to burst from their crusty shells;
and like a child again
marveled to hear so clear
and brave a music pour
from such a small machine.
What makes the engine go?
Desire, desire, desire.
The longing for the dance
stirs in the buried life.
One season only,
and it’s done.
So let the battered old willow
thrash against the windowpanes
and the house timbers creak.
Darling, do you remember
the man you married? Touch me,
remind me who I am.
~~ Stanley Kunitz ~~

9 responses to “Touch Me

  1. Wow! You have such raw talent and your poems are, well, I don’t think there is an adjective to describe what I just witnessed. Never stop writing because your talent reaches beyond the imaginable.
    I can’t wait to read another one of your beautiful poems and feel the very emotion that is stirring inside of me right now, pure anguish and awe at your tremendous skills.

    • Oh, I wish I could say that I really did write this poem and take all of this wonderful praise…but I did not. The poem was written by Stanley Kunitz. His name is at the very bottom of the poem. If you like this one, you should look up his poem “Layers.” I’m sure you can find it on the internet. It’s another beautiful poem. Thanks so much for stopping by and for commenting. 🙂

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