Horse and Harness

The eternal nowhere comes to mind.
Domain of formulas and variations,
the way a kite tugs at the rein of springtime

    (it reminds me of your dress against a pale blue wall,
    its ruched edges knifing through the dusk).

Once you sent me sugar and cigarettes,
the box with a painted-on ribbon,
shade of red and a perfect seam.

I was expecting that.
I knew you would.
Why else do we talk about chapels and
other instruments of precise emptiness?

    You said there are few things in life that …

Now I realize that only a handful of people will
fly a kite successfully in their lifetime.
Hands too heavy, unwilling.

And I remember that you kept fixing your dress,
that it was always making you unhappy.

Andrei Guruianu was born in Romania and moved to the United States in 1991. Guruianu’s work has been published in numerous literary journals and magazines around the world, both in print and online. He has been featured by former U.S. Poet Laureate Ted Kooser in his column American Life in Poetry.

 He currently lives in New York City where he teaches in the Expository Writing Program at New York University.