adieu
we …
sat here once …
so long ago it’s a dream -
a mirage of another life,
like a desert’s distant, fiery fog …
we were brine,
I, salt to your water -
churning surf that broke upon another -
that reef … HER,
(your bestie - my paramour) …
we three, dangling lazily in
the summer doldrums,
filling empty space awaiting the
pending promises of
autumn.
but now,
we are ripples, expanding -
outward … away -
yesterday’s onerous ache …
the echo of three young fools in a whirlwind,
spun from the high fells to the
heathered meadows,
from the meadows to the ocean’s
toothy hem,
from that jagged break to an
abyss, unforgiving …
where those moments,
those dear, precious, idiotic instances -
callow, quick and careless -
are now and forever …
drowned.
yet …
I remember your wit,
(a woman’s wit, tho’ just a girl) -
its bloom AND its blade -
oft’ to coax a smile,
but also,
ever prowling for a miscalculation,
ready to pounce …
I close my eyes and recall the
honey of her lips,
and what hid beneath the short-sleeve
tickle of cashmere,
how my eager hands, like Braille,
could not read her enough -
never enough …
how the candy of her mouth was
like melting sugar,
and how the odd trio we comprised -
the twined, chaotic tensions -
always hung there, obvious but oblique,
like mistletoe left …
until May.
now …
eyes opened,
I say a word-or-two,
toss the mental wreath, (roses withered),
dust the illusory ashes,
pull a long breath deeply IN,
and blow it out hard -
hard enough to make ripples on the
water’s moonlit surface -
or, perhaps …
they came from below,
bubbles of a gasp …
the last gulp of our trio’s torrid, tender memory,
giving up the ghost …
to the deep.
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