For Michiel

In The Grass


How you held my hand and told me
How your father taught you to capture sight

"It's called Latitude"

You explained when I asked about the shadows and light.

I've never told you this but,
When you hold my hand your index finger
presses just a little heavier than the rest.

That's my favorite spot on
my entire body.


This poem wouldn't exist

       if we didn't exist

and isn't that a poem enough?