Eddies
For inexorable months, we've said vague prayers
That this Monday, in the earliest stirrings of November,
When you'll fly away to Florida, by yourself,
Would somehow lose its way or forget to come,
Not only on time but at all.
Yet here we are, this soggy, leaf-strewn, rainy morning,
Realizing that our good-bye hour has finally arrived.
I've just dressed, in the dark, in silence, in denial,
And am readying my heart, my intellect, and my spirit,
To leave your house, drive off to work,
Knowing that, before I go, I'll slip back into our bedroom,
Slide the comforter and top sheet away from your neck, breasts,
Press my lips against yours, inhale your heated breathing,
Whisper my unconditional belonging to us.
Now, morning has metamorphosed into corporeal loneliness,
Leaving me as bereaved and forlorn as the leaves
On the streets, rooftops, and lawns,
Reminding me that we won't be together again, for weeks.
During the remainder of this day and evening, at least,
I'll take intermittent walks outdoors
And follow each leaf as it whirls away from its eddy.
11/05/12
|