I recall the delicate flickering under the steepled sky
Always with the slight taste of sorrowful smoke.

No more.
Now leaden flames flash in the semi-dark,

The glow of childhood or childishness
Replaced in favor of some mechanical impostor.

A penny for your thoughts sir,
A quarter for your prayers.

Say what you will
About waxen tears and the sting of smoke,
At least there was a record
And you knew how it stood.

I think
even the sun must die
a little, every day
when it rises

To face you
and hear you laugh
not like the world
is ending,
but that it never
existed at all.

And I think,
sometimes,
that razors
and icicles
and empty midnight beaches
have nothing on you.

It gets harder for me to be
Away from you, every day. This
Summer was the first I hadn’t
Come to visit, since first we
Met. I feel something’s amiss, you
Must too.  I think of the (I’m saddened),

Boats droning by on the lake at
Your door. We stayed still to watch.
I know you remember the last
Time, at night; we saw a bat;
It was too hard for us to catch;
You sat on rocks and I on grass

And we pretended that week would
Last all summer. Still, that Sunday
Came and I had to pack my things.
It rained, you cried, I misunderstood
Why I had to leave you. Blue jays
Lamented our parting with folded wings,

Helping both of us to subdue
Our sorrows. But you still smell,
Like a certain musty, expressive style,
And the only things I wanted to do
were run around you, raising hell,
And glance around for your smile

Shared with all who could begin
To catch it glinting from your eyes.
You never turn those windows away,
Shut your curtains only when
We leave your wooden feet and thighs,
Proudly formed foundations, on Sundays.

She sat down with you
by the pond
the summer heat

and dragonflies
skimming across
the water’s skin

and the odd duck or so
setting down there
and she said

I want to have kids one day
and be a good mother
and make my kids happy

and meet their needs
and not be a moaning mum
like my own

and you looked at her
taking your eyes off
the ducks and dragonflies

and letting them rest
upon her face
and wondered how Rubens

would catch her
or maybe Renoir
and you said

I’m sure you will some day
and they’ll be lucky kids
and maybe you won’t moan

or chide too much
and then silence
as you swam over

her features
her eyes
her nose

her rose kissed cheeks
the way she sat
her elbows on her knees

the summer skirt
showing a little thigh
and she said

pointing to the water
we used to swim in there
when we were young

before mother caught us
with that Barber boy
but it was fun

and innocent
but she never saw things
that way

and then she smiled at you
and you said
wish we could go swim there

like that today
while the sun’s out
and the dragonflies

are skimming
and the ducks are here
but she just shook her head

and laughed
and ducks flew off
but dragonflies stayed

where you sat with her
by the pond
in cool of shade.