This time, I won’t drop my chin down
toward the floor, won’t slip out
the door as though covered in thin fabric,

ghosting myself away into night. This
time, I will search the crowded room
for your face. I will find it, will hold it

in my gaze for as long as I possibly
can. I will take in your eyes darkly
green under your brow, the upswept

smoothness of your cheekbones
still drawn with boyishness. I will look
once more the length of your effortless

stance, hip out just so, that relaxed lean
you do when you know you are
center of the room. I will not forgive

myself if I fail to do this. The wind
has kicked up and all the trees react
with their branches jostling in waves.

The air rises with sea salt and the skinprickling
twinge of electricity as pressures
change. If you glance back, it will be okay.

I won’t, for once, pretend I don’t see.
It will happen this way: I will absorb you,
every drop, and then off I’ll go.