In the rooms of a rundown palace
You said, Ruined. You said, Princess.
You said nothing to me
For three long weeks.
The color of that room
Is eel-black.
When I was a girl and still
German, I stood alone
At the end of the sea.
You may have loved me then
I sent a message through the cages
Of a great whale’s teeth.
For three weeks, I did not sleep.
I set jars of sweet milk and baskets
Of bright berries and red
Marmalade outside your door
In the dream
Where you come to me
I kiss your mouth
Tasting the secret
Letters of your history.
I swear
Somewhere in Siberia
A godly ocean of bison
Still roam free.
You, kneeling before me,
In this,
The last and final room.
About this poem:
"This poem is 'about' that small chance that leads two people to meet, that small miracle. I was thinking about my husband and how deeply my life is informed by him and then, the small chance that led us to meet, the distance between our childhoods, where we grew up (me, in California and Germany; he in the Mid West and Greece)."
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