Rivers by stephen price

​I cannot see you through another man’s eyes
The image of you that is flipped
On his retina is as
Unknown to me as sunset is to sunrise.
 
I cannot know what attracts other men's aim
Makes them appear
As frequently as vowels on a printed page
And want to know your name.
 
Does the image that is flipped on their retina
See that your upper lip is asymmetrical
Or that your toe is purple and swollen, making you limp
Right now, because in the middle of the night
You mashed it against the leg of our coffee table.
If only you had turned on a light.
 
I know that their image of you
Does not include the time you threw
A $200 cheque down the garbage chute along
With the rest of our kitchen waste
And that you stood next to the garbage bin in the basement,
Apologizing, complaining of the smell,
As I stood inside combing through refuse and
Dodging other tenants’ garbage as it fell
From the chute like enemy mortars.
 
They want to know your name
Like that's all they need
To make a claim.
Yet
We name rivers even though
The water always changes
And erodes the path it courses over
And,
Even though we don't notice,
Nothing about them from day to day
Is ever the same.