oscillation: a variation

day to day month to  month year to year
my body changes; my hair curlier my calves
leaner, my arms stronger but today shakier too my mind
sharper, contented, but cautious, aware of so many facts it cannot hold
i'm finding myself forgetting the scent of my highschool boyfriend'ss jeep but
imagining it was cotton hung on the cottage line where we took photos for the senior
year smiling with a navy criss-cross lace blouse i wanted to wear every day that
summer i don't remember when it was i got rid of that garment how quickly
the ornaments of a life shift while only a few remain always a watch
my brother gave me the summer after i finished college a hand-
written note on a sheet of notebook paper folded, hidden
under a  velvet pillow in the dark brown box i opened
for no reason last thursday; the note fell onto the
floor of my small room no one else there to see
stooping down slowly to retrieve parchment
remembering, suddenly, the moment i read
the letter the first time, seven years ago,
in my first apartment the one on
commonwealth avenue where
the above-ground subway
train rumbled by every
forty-five minutes
and the sunlight
came in green
waves in the
springtime
when i

was almost ready
to  be happy again.