WALKING ON WASHINGTON STREET

All the way to heaven is heaven.
--St. Catherine of Sienna


It's my birthday,
temperature 100 degrees
and I'm walking on Washington Street,
when it occurs to me
that I will never be loved enough.
Never.

And what's more, I will soon
grow old
and no one will see me
through my veil of skin.


Then from nowhere
I recall St. Catherine's words.
And though I still don't know
what heaven is,
I know with absolute certainty
that it exists
because right there
in the midst of the heat
the confusion and fatigue
I've passed through it
on Washington St.

It's my birthday,
temperature 100 degrees,
and for one bright moment,
loving, just loving
is enough.

8/02/06

An Opening

In the body. When you’re young,
it’s only sex,
the blinding distractions
of light. Now hospital scenes
intrude--

My uncle Frank
stubble-faced and weak
after surgery for cancer
of the larynx
sneaking a smoke
in the bathroom.

Or Katie, the friend we envied
for her perfect body.
After what they called
exploratory surgery,
I stood in a room bleached with sun
and watched her sleep,
hands folded obediently
on her lap.

In memory, I stood like that
for days,
just studying those hands.
But in truth,
it was only moments
before her eyes snapped open
revealing the secret
of her fate,

Of mine.