One Response to “style”

  1. christmas morning, you
    are reading to me a new
    old book, 1963,
    james baldwin.

    wait, go back, i say,
    and we read again,
    out loud, and i reread
    the passage to
    myself, stuck
    in strands of time and
    the historical now, and
    i have no right to the
    sudden lump in my
    throat, so i don’t
    ask if you too are
    struggling, not
    together, but
    separately, to
    make sense of it,
    the meaning behind the
    words behind
    the words.

    we pause
    here until some
    unforeseeable spring,
    promise to pick it up
    right where we left off,
    while secretly
    stealing the solitude,
    the hours and
    years of nakedness,
    required to face
    the fire next time

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