Michael March
Originally published in The Evergreen Review Issue 123 in June, 2010.
I held you
in silence
over the years
First-born
in the stillness
of day
I carried you
past my heart
And you were
worthy
of my ruin
You fled
your own voice
You fled
the roundness
of time
A leaf
chides death
The earth
was light
You left
white slippers
a pause
no more
You left
this night
repeated
searching
for the past
That night at the Green Frog
Those three white buttons down
your birthday suit
Or when your tongue shivered
in my liver
You were there
only not
You were gone
only not
Forgive us
You were there
White wine was on your breath
Your eyes ran to Tasmania
Parrots, you laughed parrots
through the rue Rivoli
Pinballs - and cognac absorbs the sugar
That night your eyes returned
white wine, rice wine -
when I smiled at you alone
I kissed your temple
as the Law of Life
I held you
outside the Law
I waited
to be deceived
as Law unto itself
Our journeys were made
at night
Somewhere in Texas
you held a cigarette
White planks, shrubs,
and that thin veil of smoke
What pervades is past knowing
What remains is beyond reprieve
Who said pearls
cast a shadow
held fast
against skin
Who set
us apart
for ever
through
our wish
to remain
To part your lips
with one parting
Again your eyes
as night fell
Twenty years
under heaven
And the rain
continues to fall
When she danced
Pain was not weakness
Light became my bride
Dust the song of hours
When she danced
Just this time
