Dearest Deborah by Michael Brownstein
DEAREST DEBORAH Sometimes behind a curtain, An antique closet with a hundred pieces of gold Or a young man carving Jatoba wood into frames Or monarch butterflies, milkweed, and healthy hair. Behind the door, a simplicity of sound And in this room, the sweet sweat of huckleberry juice. I cannot choose enough of any of these. I can choose you, like a forest of rain. Never is it enough to seek a clean place Freshly imprinted with the small of your foot, Decorated with the easy touch of your fingerprints, And all of the breath in my world Has this need to be knotted with All of the breath in yours. Will crab grass grow stronger after the storm? This part is not in me. I can Build a porch, change a fitting, Lay out a pallet of down. This is in me. I can quilt a blanket, Tune the strings of my kora, Find a place to be with you forever And later, when you come upon me late, It will not matter wh...