In Trust

You go from me In June for months on end To study equanimity Among high trees alone; I go out with a new boyfriend And stay all summer in the city where Home mostly on my own I watch the sunflowers flare. You travel East To help your relatives. The rainy season's start, at least, Brings you from banishment: And from the hall a doorway gives A glimpse of you, writing I don't know what, Through winter, with head bent In the lamp's yellow spot. To some fresh task Some improvising skill Your face is turned, of which I ask Nothing except the presence: Beneath white hair your clear eyes still Are candid as the cat's fixed narrowing gaze —Its pale-blue incandescence In your room nowadays. Sociable cat: Without much noise or fuss We left the kitchen where he sat, And suddenly we find He happens still to be with us, In this room now, though firmly faced away, Not to be left behind, Though all the night he'll stray. As you began You'll end the year with me. We'll hug each other while we can, Work or stray while we must. Nothing is, or will ever be, Mine, I suppose. No one can hold a heart, But what we hold in trust We do hold, even apart.