another poetry date

The sky darkened that evening.   Later, when it began to pour, when the lightning arrived along with thunder, we went outside, watched the sky, watched the slant beneath streetlamps.  The three of us huddled on the porch, tomatoes growing in little pots.

 I brought strawberries and mums. 

We told each other stories over rice and asparagus:  first real loves, pedestals, knowing (and the one).  We listened to the rain.  We talked about leaving:  about being without our partner for so many days, about becoming brave enough to leave a daughter.  Residencies, conferences.  Our collaborative aubade.

I brought poems for exercises.  One by Jim Moore that ends with the line, "no one knows how to love the way I do."  Write your own poem that explores ways in which only you can love.  What will be missing when you are gone.  One by Tina Chang called "Vanity" with rich with lines and phrases.  Steal a line and let it start your own poem.  We read to one another.  We closed our eyes and listened to each word, let it roll over us.

This is one of the ways you can love.  All the livelong day.