For Katrina Three Years LaterFor Katrina, Three Years LaterFor Katrina Three Years Later4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I know I said I would not write again
I said goodbye last time I said farewell
But this is the third anniversary, my love,
Of the day you left me, my love,
And everyone knows
That three’s a wishing number.
I wish we had kept on driving, all the way to Vancouver,
What would have happened if we had kept driving, all the way to Vancouver?
If we hadn’t realized we forgot our passports
And any other clothes.
It was one night out of so many that you remembered who I was
And who we had been
And it was almost one night out of thousands that you were inclined to me
(remember under the moon alone on your roof we smoked a cigarette
That tasted like mandarins? It was like that, a lean of the roof,
When I was afraid of heights and you were afraid of losing me)
I wish we had kept on driving when we were lost out in the eastern desert.
We filled your tank four times, and each time laughed.
We found our own Mt. Sinai, and wandered, hands linked, until God sen
16. QuestioningDid you see him, just now?16. Questioning4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
At least I thought I did.
Did you run?
As fast as I could, on my broken glass feet.
Down, the old whimsy moss covered staircase.
Do you see him in your dreams too?
Not in dreams, nightmares.
I see his face, worn as a mask and an empty cage where his heart should have been.
Do you talk of him?
Never. My tongue would not betray me so.
But cantankerous Grandmothers mutter his name to frighten the children to bed.
Do you know where he is now?
He is in the hazy line between broken and splintered; he yearns for dark obscurity in the caverns between curtains and floorboards.
He is the creature that isn't quite human; he feeds on the misgivings of other. He is a spider feeding upon the brittle insect soul.
Do you miss him?
I only miss the instant sensation of relief once he evaporates and the frosted clenched jaw with which he says my name.
I will neve