“You have been mine before,/How long ago I may not know:/But just when at that swallow’s soar/Your neck turn’d so/Some veil did fall, I knew it all of yore.” (Dante Gabriel Rossetti)
If I could walk back on hot stones,
Pearls of sweat
Prickling my sight,
And scent of fervid flesh
Filling my mouth,
Back to before I ever stared into your eyes
I would, without a trembling blink
With no terror of slow motion
Or dread of scarring act.
And if I could wipe out
In pangs of blindness
The now unsettling, overwhelming sense of
Serene integer unswerving calmness
That flowed from your insufferably
Jade gaze onto me,
As a choking and transfiguring
I would, only to be capable
To regain myself.
Because listening aloofly from your distance,
From your so close then
Yet so out of reach universe,
With your immaculate vestments and ebony hair,
Suggestive of maturity
And a familiar déjà vu
Of tenderness in me,
You made me feel that I have
Known you and loved you long before this life.
And now, I know, I can’t.