do we have a loss that does

by Walter Mongin

do we have a love that does?
will you help me to bind years together like reeds,
soaked in oil, burning a torchlight in the cold nights?
do we have an old love
with knees that scrape,
or a young love
with knees that tremble,
or a true love
that touches everything like the sky

if I fell back into time and
found myself on a summer evening
with you again, I would respond when

lying in bed, the nap has ebbed, leaving
me burning under the covers, leaving
you asleep. My limbs are kindling, I push the blankets off
my chest, pull off my shirt. The curtains
hang straight and partially open behind the bed, making a rectangle.
The window on the south wall has its blinds pulled up, it is also a rectangle.
I watch the light from the parking lot behind my head, from the streetlight
to the south, from the cars pulling in and pulling out and passing by.
They share their lights, both steady and ephemeral, I stare at a ceiling with
so many right angles projected onto it while heat roils my body and desire boils my mind
and
you sleep deeply, not seeing what I see, the beautiful geometry and waste

Walter Mongin was raised in Appleton and is still here to this day. He’s written a fair amount of poetry but hasn’t published much of it. He spends a lot of time looking at animals and plants. You’ve probably seen him around.