My Soul Has the Munchies
Lately I’ve been noticing that most of us
don’t even bother to paddle between
the distances of where we don’t want to be
and where we don’t want to go.
With this flight I’m on I thought
I had the window seat
but I’m in the middle of crowded clouds
and invisible murmurs.
Most things that dog us are hidden beneath
layers and layers of surface,
old men and their secrets and their groans,
things that don’t have voice or form,
things that are a kind of self-apology
that take years to make.
I’ll never forget the feeling I had when I saw you
waving to me from the other side of the bridge.
I thought about all the things that make things
too late and too early all at the same time.
Maybe there are no coincidences.
Maybe it’s all God’s handiwork
stringing up this orchestral hum,
these strings of puppetry.
Maybe when we saw each other years ago
the only choice was to not notice
the lower angels.
I recognized that smile.
I knew the perfume.
It was spring and the river argued with itself.
There are certain rules concerning first dates.
You’re not supposed to let your eyes become sky
or your honesty form the whole of your mouth.
I thought you might kiss me.
I drowned beneath ice and forgot
to walk you to your car.
And then later that night you called my name.
I believed in us without any proof.
Incrementally time added up
what I’d come to know long ago.
You were my Sabine.
And I had finally found you.
- Kristian Kuhn 2016
Kristian Kuhn lives in Fairport, New York. He is a graduate of Brown University and has been teaching for several years in the SUNY system. The Long Shadow of the Coming Wise will be his seventh full-length publication and will be out in early April.