late spring love poem...

                       Lover’s perusal


Extra pages, their undiscarded chapters,
I read them with my hands---
lines on her face she regards
as sentences to be revised, neck and eyes and cheeks
to be edited, reworked,

parts of spring to be pulled from winter just in time
to avoid indelible creases
that don’t matter
to me when our kisses hide in sun shadows
that cover us and our forewards,

our children;
our book, its story, set aside then,
illegible as our unshared pasts,
paper smooth histories,
until our eyes reopen.


                          B. Koplen 5/24/12