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Thursday, July 23, 2009

New to the Dark

I rest my head back
on all those days spent together;
the thoughts go crawling back
down the old streets with you
,
they run from me -- sometimes
I nearly lose one or two,
so I hold onto them tenderly
throughout the night
like something dying,
I rock to sleep
like a child new to the dark
crying, a boy in sway
about a girl like you
that shouldn't have gone away;

tears track a release, a homage
to all the lives made better
because of you
, I celebrate you,
I take notes
in the cramped rare book library
of memory, so when they ask me
what I loved about you,
I'll know what to say.

I tick the boxes in my head;
a shopping list of attributes --
your honesty and your kindness,
how you always protected me
--
but they're not the parts of you
I will talk about later
when I remember you
and the laughter is no longer forced,
when the pain no longer physically
registers
, and I suddenly, sadly,
realise I can think of you
in larger measures
and feel no twinges of guilt
when love comes anew;

then I will say how you
were a lovejustice revolutionary --
publicly loud, privately mute --
jumping off an eighth-floor balcony
to all that was taboo,
hitting ground level
in a celebratory whoot!
and breaking all rules in two.

but I'll never bury you,
not when life is a storming sea
without you; I'll give no recognition
to any adieu
, not when your loss
beats my ships black and blue,
until I get control
of this blowing wind of change,
I'll steer by your guiding star,
looking up high
to where you most certainly are,
while the darkness
peers down on me, and I
think I'm living
with a courage so rudimentary

that it may go and drown
at the slightest shake
of the sea, and though grief
objectifies me low down,
yet still, and still again
I wouldn't swap this pain
for anything I hold true
-- it's a small
price to pay to have loved you.

From the collection: "Home Alone" (Letters to B) >>

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