dreaming of drawers

in the credenza of my memories...

dreaming of drawers

the third drawer down,
the drawer with no front on it,
yawns, with shirts, like tongues, hanging out

      i can't slide it open, so i'm tossing
      everything, wild-eyed, ransacking
      my memory
      for just that moment, when
      the salt air of nantucket
      pushed the hair back,
      off your cheek, at last
      revealing the small curves of your ear

i want to whisper
just once more
about how i lived
before you came; and watch
your lips mumble in sleep,
and your eyes stare hard
at the sea.