Trying to Remember Myself
after Stanley Kunitz
I wake in a brown hotel room
and things are changing.
My body is swelling with white
light and there’s a song playing
somewhere inside a static speaker.
Outside the wind is turbine grey
and a red corvette revs beneath
the rain. I hear my mother and father
in the next room. They sound happy
the way lovers sound when drinking
gin while spinning under an ochre moon.
When I call there is no answer
and when I check the phonebook
it shows their names followed by:
disconnected in another world.
I keep trying anyway.
I give up, and retreat back to bed
with my love. When I sleep
there’s an escalator that carries
me to where they are,
and I watch them in my translucent
skin as I move through their skin
saying, I just need to touch you.