I'm not going to look at myself for the Winter,
And I'm not going to look at you.
I'll close my eyes and hear
The sounds your body makes.
I'll listen as one whose palm
Is inscribed by a trembling finger
And then pushed under the flow
To feel the double entendre
And know the name called 'water.'

And when you cry, I will smell the wetness of your tears,
And I will taste them for myself
To be sure whether they are of sorrow or joy.

And when Spring comes,
With its equal light,
I'll open my eyes
And rewrite this poem,
Replacing the you's with me's,
Changing the your's to my's.

And then I'll close my eyes again
And do all these things that I've done for you
For myself
Until Summer comes
With it's harvest of sweet cherries and wheat,
And then I will open my eyes
And eat,
And be satisfied.

-jenn