You asked me to write a poem about zen pants and serenity sweaters

It was a passing comment between
bathroom & bedroom, you pulled

your shirt over your head, ignoring
buttons, tossing it on a chair, dis-
missing protocol & laundry hampers

adding, Then I’ll know which poem
is for me, and you flopped into bed.

I wonder what else you’ve missed
the trail laid out so carefully before you

no tricks or twists, I thought, only

a well placed chair, clean shirts in the
closet, a soft bed to fall into, a place

to start again.

Did you know that kiwis grow in Nova Scotia?

Pieces of New Zealand, rock & soil
lodged in the Atlantic, closer to

Greenland & the arctic cap, the highest tides
& black sand, tropical fruit grows

amidst northern hurricanes, orchards survive
seasons of snow squalls, Chinese gooseberries

renamed, rebranded, reminding you
distance does not equal divide, promising

maybe when you least expect it, a small taste of home.

One day, as I made a vague reference to Gena Rowlands

I told you I was too tired
to stand up any longer, and

you took me literally, sweetly
offering me a chair.