[a poem in two voices]
Sunday morning, evergreen forests, sacred scripture.
[I wish I had been given the chance to meet you before I did.]
The first warm day of spring, tender peaches, ivory linen.
[If only I had known you as a small, wandering child.]
Crisply folded origami flowers, Christmas Eve, candle wax.
[You are summer and salt and radio static. You make me feel.]
Would you have wanted me back when I wasn’t who I am now?
[Take a wild guess. Look at me. Read the answer.]
But even when I wasn’t me? When I was bad, when I wasn’t—
You didn’t let me finish. I was far from worthy—[Even then.]