“
Now reading
On a Line by Petrarch
What I once loved I now love less. September leaves us shadows but no light. I watch you undress, your body edged in darkness. Miles on the stereo, those notes that I once loved, and now love less- the glint of anger they suppress turns a kind of airless blue, admits no light. I watch you undress your gestures of significance, and leave me at a loss to know what I once loved. I now love less than fluently, am forced to guess at curve of neck and arch of brow. But not at light. I watch you without redress to sound or sense. The needle lifts at last from the refrain, its echo: What I once loved I now love less. But no; not light; not watching you, undressed.