Handkerchief
When he will offer you his handkerchief,
it exists five states from where you cry
inside a drawer of pine or make believe
a fairytale that you still grieve. He buys
the postage to a place he will not go.
He is a gentleman you know. Invites
your choice of gingham or stripes. How thorough
the gentle swipes of cotton so you might
smell love a phone can neither show nor tell.
Unfold it like a parchment spell. Hold it
against your lips a spell until scent impels
(he as well, Internet omnipresent,
diction, decorum of your dirty south)
you take what you have of him in your mouth
