In miles I’m home where things I’d prized, stacked pegs and wire that I’d called mine who knew I was so blue at age 5, standing tall among the vines of a small tinted window.
I remember the nose of a donkey I knew when I was a girl wanting to warm the noses of donkeys
I remember the wools and the wetnesses, and his long jowl under my arm
I remember the cross across his back, black, and thinking oh that’s where that comes from
I loved him for coldness of nose, willingness to be warmed I loved him for the purpose he gave me, willingness to be loved
if I am warm, let me warm you. if I am willing, let me do.