lunch

i have been
in the stiletto version
of where you are
so,
i offer my eyes
hand under chin
rapt attention
reassurance that
yes,
it will rearrange you
and
my mutual laughter
at the fragments
you will reassemble
to become
a tall tower
of steely soulfulness
that finds it
difficult to believe
a word
anyone says
especially when
their sentences contain
a bitter word like “love”
but,
i hope you believe me
when i say to you
here
by this wide window
in the crowded noise
your eyes are
the exact shade of amber
that i remember
shining
in your mother’s kitchen window
when
we were four