In hazy Aftersunset
I lay the day to rest
metaphor, inhibitions
Circumference of my memory
Last lining of the sun, dimmed in evening
Rhythm within, melodies as I remember
I walk along the water’s edge
My feet mesh with the ground,
tabloid footprints in the earth
as if I had purpose
my wandering in the night
The pond leaves dew on my skin
early memories dissipate in the falling of the night
liquefying emotions
I remember
The darkness leaves my memory inconsistent
Pain and warmth dull and blend
Perhaps for the better
Though I can look up
last glow of sunset, widow of the day, up above
Down below I walk along
frogs, cattails, milkweed pod
the walk seems lonely now
Housed in memories
I walk along and the air is thicker
Humid, glue of the past, tacky, forming thought to memory
And I can walk further
tractor, sideboard, wormwood barn door
Housed in memories
the widow, after sunset
scissors, scrapbook, fragmented memories
still wandering
He had hands that would have reached the octaves well,
earth beneath the nails,
weathered hands,
the hands that could hold a thought,
if thoughts had substance
Tying vines to harsh wire
his fingers moved,
expertly, gently, living
lives of their own
Clusters of fruit,
the juice within
the rain I could taste falling from the sky
And I said to him
teach me your peace
He took my hand,
placed coiled vine in palm
and smiled.
In my senseless wandering I have felt you,
light on fingertips, breeze through air
while the stillness cries,
like rain on the edges of thought
Stranger,
nights left to muse
rough skin,
texture, language, moment
Left alone, a dream returns
patterned lover of lightness,
script yet unwritten, save in my mind
Pleasant thoughts, speak now
the night is losing its grip on my hand
stepping into moonlight
I can see your face
And waking,
what is left but
darkness on the edge of wanting
Mid February
and the frost has taken the branches
frozen still
in the darkened afternoons where
the winter’s image melts into memory
silence,
gaze into thought
that dark space between
the hollows of each moment
and drops
sit on the branches
if bent they break, snapping inside frozen moments
and sleet, rain, snow ornament
my breath swims up through the cold
a walk on unsteady ground
frozen sheath, sleeted rain
reminds me of the tears
trickle down, thought, memory, emotion
liquifying pain onto the quiet earth
steam from automobiles, sewers
never is anything so still
as when environs transform into
stage,
knight’s wood,
dance of ice.
