Jean Valentine Poems
|1.||Fellini in Purgatory||6/22/2015|
|2.||Poem from the Russian||6/22/2015|
|5.||Hospital: Strange Lights||3/5/2014|
|6.||La Chalupa, The Boat||3/5/2014|
|10.||To The Black Madonna Of Chartres||3/5/2014|
|11.||Father Lynch Returns From The Dead||3/5/2014|
|12.||I Have Lived In Your Face||3/5/2014|
|16.||Elegy For Jane Kenyon (2)||1/13/2003|
|18.||The One You Wanted To Be Is The One You Are||2/19/2015|
|19.||To Plath, To Sexton||1/13/2003|
You came in a dream, yesterday —
The first day we met you showed me
your dark workroom off the kitchen,
your books, your notebooks.
Reading our last, knowing-last letters —
the years of our friendship
reading our poems to each other,
I would start breathing again.
Yesterday, in the afternoon,
more than a year since you died,
some words came into the air.
I looked away a second,
and they were gone, six lines,
just passing through.
I have decorated this banner to honor my brother.
Our parents did not want his name used publicly
-- from an unnamed child's banner in the AIDS Memorial Quilt.
The boatpond, broken off, looks back at the sky.
I remember looking at you, X, this way,
taking in your red hair, your eyes' light, and I miss you
so. I know,
you are you, and real, standing there in the doorway,