This
is one
of those
perfect moments,
sitting at our kitchen table,
safe at home with you.
I
treasure
this perfect moment
even
knowing
I will forget
to remember,
maybe.
Or remember only imperfectly
in some distant moment
this sensation of
belonging, of
this
self-enclosed world
that begins and
ends with us.
Tomorrow has no standing here,
now.
Now is only for this
perfect moment,
here with you.
Home.
In perpetuity,
until I close my eyes.
Until I close my eyes,
tomorrow remains at bay,
an unrealized idea,
potential only,
transparent,
insubstantial,
subordinate
in all ways
to
today.
And so
I will not close my eyes.
I will not yield. By force
of gravity alone
will this be
taken
from
me,
lost. Spun
away, it fades
with consciousness.
I write to remember.
October 30, 2024
