After I kissed Catherine I told her to call me Jay

because I wanted her to know my real name
because I wanted her to know who I really was.

She said to call her Catherine. I loved the way

she let me carry my secrets around and every now
and then, at noon or sunset, dop one on her foot.

See how heavy it is, I said, how the suffering goes on

after the suffering is over. I loved the way
she listened without listening when I couldn’t change.

I loved the way she changed before the dark did,

the woman inside of her stepping out of her jeans.
I loved how she would curl up under the blanket

and get smaller like a shirt folding in on herself

until she was no larger than the size of her shoulder
leaning into minen. I loved how her breathing swelled

and came apart with the smell of lilacs from a garden

at the end of the street. I loved how her body shook
like a wild instrument with all this music inside it.