This unmarred canvas, my wife,
moves through the wind
like candlelight, all flicker and flutter.
I’m amazed she touches the earth
when she walks – I secretly
believe her footsteps
are clever forgeries.
She saved me from my
lonely walk. I had been stumbling
for years, one more missed step
and I would have shattered into a thousand
worming pieces. She resurrected me.
My knees have grown supple
from my dreaming of her.
My husband will write something like that to me when we're old, I bet. He's going to love me a ton.