Sol dreaming

Tracey Rolfe

These are the things you didn't tell me

that without your warmth the world would choke on its own darkness
   that vines would straggle
                and wither
                      and die
   and the world would spin into oblivion, oblivious in its Antarctic freeze
that without your silken touch, legs would bow until they formed a perfect O
   that without you no amount of milk could save the rickety child
that too much of your love could bring out the watermelon red
   the prickly rashes and furnace heat hidden under cotton
   that too much love could make my skin fissure
                          and blister
                                and peel
that the healthy glow you gave me would age me, wrinkle me, crow my eyes
   that today I would feel your loving touch growing on my face
   that today the surgeon would take his blade to me to cut away evidence of you
   that tomorrow it might be my children's faces, younger, ever younger

that when you give you life, you also take it away.