~ for my friend and fellow poet
Rebecca Askew~
wherever that bench be,
I be
oxygen sweet, sharing mine,
preserving you, a necessary for me
for are you not
my very own Canadian
wild shorebird daughter,
my wailing
wild woman, kicking up dust trails,
driving across wide plains
with no-eye boundaries,
whose prayers and lamentations,
take me into mourning places,
and lift my eyes skyward
what is this,
the third, the fourth,
the nth,
poem you have extracted,
from oil drilled within me,
dug in my inky deeper places,
my tarred but oil rich sands
though our eyes have not yet crossed,
our embrace completely incomplete,
a millennia of words exchanged,
borders crossed oft,
no passport ever shown,
no visa needed,
when this will not sufficient prove,
I do not know
but with calm certitude
Michaelangelo finger extended,
when that last traverse
will be spent, at last at lasted,
the when or the wherever
this will be, a commencement ceremony,
I Know
that my spirit
you so well possess,
will come upon your request
bring your near,
no marble bench memorial markers here,
just life giving
empty Adirondack poet's chairs,
needing jams and jelly filling,
your name dedicated,
inscribed thereon, upon one,
be by my bay,
(forgive but forget cold, unforgiving Lake Michigan,)
by my bay, seagulls wail and squeak
airborne inspirations,
acting soully as watch-birds over poets-in-residence,
where words lap upon the simple shore,
for free-taking, warm lived life contained,
no talk of death, only cheating it...
This I know,
as well as the colors of
my blood, my guts, my words,
yours, the first words my eyes read this day,
this, my last belief, as my heart beats,
come summer,
we will write together side by side,
the windy invisible, indivisible
words composed,
be, that, our true *benchmark,
of lives well lived,
forever preserved,
death defeating,
you,
help me to
see too well,
so laughing shouting,
fine woman-poet,
**I know thyself
