hibernation: poems by colleen cosette goodman

The Poem Where I Do Not Call Her By Her First Name

I wander around the beach at night
With all the lovers and myself
Moonlight drips on them,
His fingers on her jaw,
God smiles, all that.

The person I love forgot about me long ago.
The person I love is buried in her own world

The ocean rolls across my feet,
The cold war on my toes over and over again;
Familiarity as a comfort,
Like when I was a child,
And saw the vastness of the horizon,
Like now, when I am worn-out and uninspired

She is my only friend.