Archive
04/29/12 - (2)
Three Couples
This private Sunday night, as I dine by myself, A thousand miles separating us, not ten minutes, My thoughts keep harking back to last evening, at Powell Hall, Where you and I sat close, in our loge seats, Enthralled by the enchanting Romantic leitmotivs Of Rachmaninoff's ecstatic Piano Concerto no. 2 in C Minor, Our clinging fingers stroking, bringing our emotions to climax.
Now, this Sunday evening is contracting by exactly one week. We're approaching my parents' shared red-granite stone, In ceremonial reverence, tenderly holding hands. "Mom, Dad . . . Linda and I have come to say we miss you, Wish you the elation and grace we're experiencing here." My tears glistening the ivy twining their mounds, I place my new book of poems, for them, between their graves.
Suddenly, tonight's time expands into an unending present, And we, your parents (Murray, Shirley), mine (Charlotte, Saul), Are soaring beneath the earth's surface and in the sky, Below and above the location of our souls, Hoping that the love we three couples know, have known, Will coalesce, forever unite us, in blessed togetherness, And let us sip from the cup of eternal shalom.
04/29/12 - (2)
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