"The City is Falling in My Heart Again"

the city is falling
in my heart again,
black and white film
wraps around white porcelain
tea cups, and memories of
your red velvet hat
in the first snowfall,
footprints in Place Monge, teashop fog
your hands buried in pillows,
we showered in water meandering
through Parisian pipes,
and sang on the other ends,
toes splashing
in soapy twirls of Tolbiac bliss

two years later our bodies thrown
to nations that are dusty in dividing ways,
no lyrical melodies while pastries bake,
but something different under
the spines of leaves,
colder, beautiful in icicles,
alleyways and stones
in your diamond black pupils,
poets' irises and your scarves