love poem

Through your lens the sequoia swallowed me  
like a dryad. The camera flashed & forgot.
I, on the other hand, must practice my absent-
mindedness, memory being awkward as a touch  
that goes unloved. Lately your eyes have shut
down to a shade more durable than skin’s. I know you  
love distance, how it smooths. You choose an aerial view,  
the city angled to abstraction, while I go for the close  
exposures: poorly-mounted countenances along Broadway,  
the pigweed cracking each hardscrabble backlot.  
It’s a matter of perspective: yours is to love me  
from a block away & mine is to praise the grain-
iness that weaves expressively: your face.

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