memorial for a brilliant woman

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Thursday Poem

Absolute

Shoving full paper bags into the trunk,
she pauses only to rub eye to sleeve
nose to wrist, she has wept enough.

A pillar,a cellar,a shaker,a lick,
cracked with disappointment,
she leaves hard, eaten away.

Their final argument stands,
there is No, there is Yes, there is
a staircase going down and up

tipped on its side, every step
becomes a corner, every move lateral,
que sera, she whispers, que sera.

Whatever fits will go, one carload.
The rest is his and welcome to it-
skillets hold memories, pillows too.

For now, to be alone suits just fine,
the dust she leaves tells the story,
she shakes it off her feet, drives away.

2 comments:

paris parfait said...

This is beautiful; reminds me of a sad time in my life.

White Square said...

Hi,
a thoughtful poem..!