The Things That You Wanted

the things that you wanted
are in the bag
grapes and clementines
and a 59 cent comb
(there was a full jar
and I could have gotten 2)

when I feel this way
(your head on a pillow of snow
the remote control near
your spotted hand)
I can’t do more
than write a few notes
and leave them on the table
at the top of the stairs
counting keys just to count
something that will add up
looking from the fire to the window
listening to Caspar growl
boot tread full of ice
melting in the Persian rug

the same thing that holds you
the grip of the same eyes
in the same hand holds me
and I am too sad to breathe
the inexhaustible need
a furnace in the heart

my resistance peals in the valley where
doors and windows are lit and closed
and there are no ears