Memory in the Grain

I catch our mate in the rafters of the road

Where the dust moves slow in the afternoon

The tattle sang, the window leaned

On a page of light between the beams

We walked that road with our shoulders lowed

Past the fir trees and the water's glow

You talked in fragments, soft and clean

Like you were tracing where you'd been

And I remember, I remember

The way the small things held their flame

A breath, a glance, a borrowed sweater

A memory that still says your name

Now when the pipes drift through the hall

I feel that season in the wall

The brush on skin, the firelight dim

The tender shape of the end when

And I remember, I remember

The way the small things held their flame

A breath to cleanse, borrowed, sweated

A memory that still says your name

So I keep on gently, line by line

Letting the past make a thin bright line

Not to return, not to remain

Just could carry the weather of your name