Whatever Country They Exist

I’m making the room
my room with
my hips,
my sighs,
my tired eyes;
and when
she leaves,
she leaves suddenly
and nothing but
her fragrance
delays,
but it’s too much memory
for me to be alone.

Up in another room
that is her room,
a wind of linen gusts
downstairs and vanishes
her ghost. Then I am
the tyrant of my loneliness.
The kingdom of the kitchen
and the couch I’ve claimed.

And when she sleeps
does she dream of me
or does she dream me
away to distant lands?

I wish them both.
From my room,
with equal love,
I love her dreams
and my own.
I love the capitals
of our hearts
in whatever country
they exist.
What’s mine
is diamonds
and what’s hers
is the moon.
From our different rooms,
we sneak
into each other’s lives
and steal our private air
like carrots from
one another’s gardens.

---

Brian Lutz teaches at Delaware Valley University. In 2003 he was named Poetry Laurate of Bucks County, PA. His poetry has been published in numerous journals including Slate, Potomac Review, Louisville Review, Poetry East, Cider Press Review, Poet Lore, Apple Valley Review and Cimarron Review. Brian lives in Pennsylvania with his wife, two kids and three cats.