You
Sometimes in our sleep we touch
The body of another woman
and we wake up
and we know the first nights
with summer visitors
in the three storied house of our childhood.
Whatever we remember,
the darkest hair being brushed
in front of the darkest mirror
in the darkest room.
Everybody Who Is Dead
When a man knows another man
is looking for him
He doesn’t hide.
He doesn’t wait
to spend another night
with his wife
or put his children to sleep.
He puts on a clean shirt and a dark suit
and goes to the barber shop
to let another man shave him.
He shuts his eyes
remembers himself as a boy
lying naked on a rock by the water.
Then he asks for the special lotion.
The old men line up by the chair
and the barber pours a little
in each of their hands.
Frank Stanford
