POEM: You Are Not You
You are not you, but a shaft of white,
The chance starlight that I look up to see,
Who is the boat that carries me home
Over black water, beneath a new moon
When the dark is a velvet soup.
Who is not a kiss, or madder red lips
Or even the sound of a pucker, thinned
By fear. Who is a fire blazing within,
Not a lone voice but the communion
Of many dead poets conspiring rebellion.
You are not you at all,
But a wind that whisks me clean,
A sinful lushness of summer greens
Against the long-shivering hours of need.