Beneath the quiet,
the tucked-in,
the folded pages of him,
he laid down glimpses
of wooden spoons
and open robes,
bathing in their memory
until she picked up
a thread
leading to his attic,
as cluttered and dusty as hers,
which in its glory
had been at best
a summer song
but now only sounded lost;
they found harmony
in their blackened hearts
and wished only
for a little time to sing.

I won’t tell
how long I stood
on the steps
inhaling the old building smell-
but I’ll tell you,
my knees shook a little
with the intoxicating memory
of books and empty stairwells
and how I craved
holding hands,
at the start.

Imagined promise
standing inside an echo
clutching a can of soup
with no crackers

When night
reaches obscene levels of blue
and air is permeable
(not like Venus),
who will you conquer
when the wind cries, “mercy!”

I.

A terrible wind
kept me from descending
the other side of the upper knoll-
I should have known
my walk was not meant to be
when a gust slammed the car door,
cutting my leg
as I tried to get out,
but yet I tried to make the trail…

II.

Clouds moved swiftly
with a rolling March thunder
and I could see rain
over the hills nearby.

I paused near woods’ edge,
watching bare trees bend
and lake waves crash on the dock.
My time slipped away faster
with words unused.

III.

A buffeting cold
increased with each step.
The clouds seemed to pick up speed.
My boots sank in wet leaves.
I felt a little disoriented,
sky and earth spinning.
Like I had lived this moment before
and was about to choose
a different end.

IV.

There was something lurking
just past the footbridge –
I could not see it, but a presence
pulled at me to turn back.

I made a choice
to turn away,
ignoring curiosity
because I am used to being filled
with wonder.