Finish can mean the end;
or may mean the beginning.
For I feel an -ish is kinda like
precisely what it’s gone and -ished –
and so didn’t you know that?
Don’t you know my love?
And then today I finally uncovered a treasure
chest of such love – no defiled battlefield
at all, this; and a photo
unseen for so many times
green has finished me off in utter
felicity: the joy I felt heart-droppingly
was love infusing me
as memories returned to me like
magdalena unfolding me: unfolding,
unbolting the memories of love;
of that woman who stood over me and
knew me so long before I ever knew her;
and I know that I wonder and
I think and I puzzle and am clearly
at universal disadvantage in not
knowing the clockwork of third men
who see and look over me,
but I also see benevolence and love
I cannot contain myself:
I had never been loved like this.
I had never loved like this.
I can never love better again.
I can never be loved better again.