Sabbatical

You are unfortunate. 

I see you, I see

A shard of something shooting to earth

Cutting with a white light razorblade

Something slipped from the pocket of God. 

I know the color of your eyes. 

It has been a thousand hours, almost,

Since I saw your face

At a waxing gibbous angle

Walking back to your grandpa’s car

Yet I remember every line and shadow. 

You are unfortunate

Because you cannot be classified

By even the vaguest of labels. 

All at once, you are

Friend and brother and

Confidant and advisor and

Handsome and far away. 

If I were to save my pennies

For weeks and weeks on end

Would it be enough, or

Would something better come along? 

There is a fracture here

Right here, on the joint

Between what is unknown and what is speculated

Over and over on the verge of sleep

And boring afternoons in Spanish class. 

You outshine me in all your color

I cannot see you beside my beige.

Which does not mean I do not wish. 

I opened to you,

Deep and raw and unforgiving

And it was good even through the bad. 

Only now I’m afraid

Time has healed, as it will do

What was red and vital has cooled to something

Smooth, white, raised

Braille on the heart proclaiming your initials

Scar tissue wrapped around the splinter of you

That happened to work its way through my skin

Three years ago, when a snaggletoothed smile

Came through the door in winter

And lit up the side of the classroom

Where sat a pale girl in green and

A black blazer. 

I am afraid of making you into

A manikin, on which to hang

The clothes I see in a few years’ time. 

That would be the purest form of corruption,

Molding you into something I want. 

Nor can I lock away the negatives

Of the images of past encounters

Which would be tantamount to caging a bird

To ensure it remains undomesticated. 

I am afraid that,

For the time being,

I must dismiss you from the stage of my mind. 

I must retire you from the role you have played

And allow the both of us

A little creative freedom. 

Keep in touch,

For I expect to see you in a few months’ time

A few pounds heavier, a few inches higher

Marginally wiser, all the better. 

And who knows

What you will be then? 

The same, of course,

Can be said of me.