B —

When I walked along the dike tonight
there was the smell of ice in the air.
Snow brushed the foot of the mountain.
The wildlife was quiet – no gossiping
geese, no chattering ducks, no beaver
splashing into the water to keep
pace with me. Only the shushing
of the river, and a sound like wolves, 
howling.

            How different this must be
from where you are. Awake, I try
to call your face to my mind, but
it's blurred; it could be the face of any
of the men I've loved. But asleep, you
are there, complete, completely
yourself. I imagine walking the paths
you walk. The colors, the wildness,
the strangeness of you

            in that place. The slowness
of elephants, their surprising hair. Such
gentleness, such patience. Delicate,
spangled shawls on the shoulders of
great and dangerous power. Temple bells.
The calls to prayer. Fourteen years. I know
you have found demons, and faced them
down. Have you found angels? Have you
found peace?