But a Moment
I hold you ...
tight to my chest
but with a concerned tenderness,
as if you are an infant
that I am shielding from a storm ...
or an angel of Valhalla -
her last breath given, ear-to-heart
for the soft-thrumming rhythm of life ...
(what my tympans now ache for)
your flesh is warm next to mine as
I rock us forth-and-back in
the bright midday sun
making the foxglove and Queen Ann's lace
wave to the hazy meadow about us -
honeys and bumbles prance
like pollen pixies,
unconcerned with tragedy ...
(blue steel peeks from the weeds
beside you - the diabolical serpent)
our favorite spot, this -
where we always came to make up -
oh, how sweet those reconciliations among
the rippling pasture grasses
on countless days such as this
but NOT this ...
there is not a puff of breeze -
and faint, shadowy, gray-blue wisps with a
tinge of sulfur swirl around us like
phantom arms, threatening -
a demon of death that you have released
(from its brass casing)
I swat it away with anger -
INTENSE anger ...
sweat pouring off my brow to sting my face
(I ran as fast as I could, you see ...
as fast and as hard as I could, after your note)
washing tears away that drip on
your cheek from my chin -
that precious porcelain cheek that I
have kissed so often - sometimes with intent
other times for its sake alone ...
and such eyes above -
those once dazzling, burnt umber eyes -
staring right through me as if an apparition ...
or some shimmering gem just
beyond holds your gaze ...
as if you are in another world -
another existence where I can not follow
(which, of course, you ARE)
I try to shut your eyes like they do in movies
but they will not close ... not at all
still quite warm and supple, but they won't shut
and I think, maybe ...
(irrationally)
that you WANT them open -
that perhaps you wish to witness my grief
perhaps - from that other realm -
you're still watching
counting my tears as they fall
each one a briny christening of your horrid act -
your awful, deadly, horrid act
that I was but a moment too late ...
to prevent.
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