YOUR WORLD WITHOUT ME

I’m a bubble in your bumble bath,

sweetness in weeping cherry trees,

and in perfumed Frangipani blossoms

in your pond filled with Golden Koi.

I ignite the sky with Northern Lights,

inhabit a piece of every star,

keeping an eye on you

wherever you are.

When your car must stop,

my foot hits the brake.

I subdue the growl and bark

of every dog that scares you,

and join the purr of Aretha

on your lap when you’re content.

I keep every snorting beast at bay,

and send tornadoes back where they came from,

sealing the earth when it fumbles and cracks.

You’re never alone in the world without me,

even when you’re sailing from Souris

to the Magdalen Islands, —

I’m kisses in the spray

on your face as you perch

on the prow of the boat.

The scent of new mown hay

when we curled up

at the top of our silo

for a mute encounter

remains a memory

of how you made

my soul blossom.

I’m in touch with you

in ways you can’t imagine,

like honey in your oolong tea

when we were in Kyoto,

and wished we were in Kyoto.