I Am
loved best. Words I have neversaid. New sentence, at 80. Of coursenot more than his children, and their children. That goeswithout saying—but I want to lay down eachelement of love’s house. First,the hole, under—apple cellar, potato cellar,cellar to hide in—and then the foundation,post and beam, and raise the newwalls of light replacing the walls ofshadow we had held up between us. Now,doors of light, windows of light—not yet the roof, like the earth on top of thecoffin lid, in this world of sweetdirt, and whatever comes after, if anythingcomes after. I am loved best by the oneI love best—of course not more than my childrenand their children, that goes without saying. And it’s notlike winning anything, it’sit’s not like sex, though something like just after—holding, being held, it’s notwine, but maybe the gulp that hitsthe belly near the heart, with its bright heat.I desired it, I thirsted for it.It’s opposite to not being lovedbest, yet it almost feels ordinary,like milk for a newborn at the breast, like airthere to be breathed after a full exhale,like the earth turning east, so there is wind from the west,like ice remaining ice, like dreamingrivers sleeping in their beds, as if it were adestiny, though temporary,maybe only till death, we don’tknow, though it feelsmuch longer, loving best the onewho loves you best.
