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I still go to call you.
When the door opens
I rise to run to greet you.
So I took your number from the phone
and now just look for it.
I lock the door,
So it can’t open
Unbidden.
We tossed your ashes to the river.
I stood downwind,
Poured them into my hand,
Threw them high.
They flecked across the moon,
They mixed with the new grey in my hair,
Covered my face.
I took a breath
Deep.
Your ashes
Taste of salt.
A poem for Lee. This is how it was SUPPOSED to go.
So what was there to do?
He was gone, and so
there was the cleaning up.
The dispersal of goods,
sorting and separating,
matching
memories and mementos.
But he was meticulous and
everything was in its place.
So there was very little of him
over which my hands could grieve.
Nothing to keep my mind company
until it was time to do the laundry.
I could have put it into a bag,
placed it in the garbage,
left it at a thrift store
dropped it in a fire
sent it heavenward.
Instead, I washed it all,
hanging shirts that once
took his form, carefully folding
underwear, one pair of the dungarees stained from kneeling in the garden,
shorts that once showed his knees,
knees stained by Earth and Clay.
Each put away, and when that was done,
there was nothing left
but the sorting and pairing of his socks.
For Lee. Be well my dear one. You were the font of all that is good and right in this world, the genesis of all that is beautiful and the wellspring of all that in creation is joy. I will see you later. I will.
On our way
home from the beach
We stop beside the car
For you to change,
Backside to the passenger door,
I hold a blanket in front of you
As you slip off your top
And drop a loose
Dress over your shoulders
Over your belly,
Mid-calf,
Neglecting to button the bodice
So you dry in the air.
And below the blanket
Your bathing suit
Bottom hits the ground.
As I drive the highway home
Still wet,
You place your feet on the dashboard,
Pull open your top just a bit more
Pull up the hem of your dress over your hips
and fan yourself dry
On the car seat
Spread out in the sun.
I almost hit a wall.
I almost hit a tree.
Bless you.
(A poem for Lee)
I believe in you.
You.
like I believe
The Sun rises each morning and
The moon shades from light to dark then
To light again.
I believe in you
like I believe in
The laws of Nature.
I am as sure of you as
Water runs downhill,
Cold contracts,
Gasses expand,
An object in motion stays in motion...
I am as sure of you as I am
Spring will come again and again.
I believe in you like light.
