Sketching in Periodicals
today, in the mellow gold of the library,
I scraped the lines of your arm,
tracked the ruffled arc of your hair
as it crept into curls around your ear.
The gentle curve of your fingers were childlike,
your eyes so smooth,
gray swoops on my page
and I stared and stared at the way
the ridge of your nose slipped into your eyebrow.
It took time for me to get that right.
when I was done, you were there
dropped in the margins of my Economics notebook,
where I could shuffle back
and locate you easily;
quietly nestled between Positive Externalities
and the Law of Diminishing Returns.
I watched your face a minute longer
wanted to reach across the table
to rub your forehead, as if you were my little brother
sleeping on the couch on a Sunday