a wise young man once shared with me a proverb
“a fox which chases two rabbits will catch neither.”
I’ve been calling you a fox ever since
the weather got too cold for baby blue forget-me-nots
nothing good ever happened in a month like May
but you were my rusty fox
I couldn’t catch you that rainy day
or that frosty night, my love
for fear of crushing inadvertently
an annual bloom.
perhaps you were doomed to be perennial
but you followed me into libraries
and around street corners
I followed you down the alleyways of our city
and through doors;
that only ever led to too little, too late
for which I am truly sorry.
just, please. this time
believe me when I say
I gave everything to you I could
I crossed so many lines too many
but here I stood
silently shouting at you
to love me,
to need me,
to adore me again -
shortly before the weight of the futility
of so much past came to light.
you are the poetry in my poems
you brought the fire, and I brought the fuel
we were almost an experimental pair -
but you were the wind
and I was driftwood
splinters of me scattered all across the bay
and when you turned,
you forgot how to whistle
the tune we always had.
and I lost sight of you
when the waters stilled too much
for me to be able to feel you there
and be carried along with you.
it is said that
“a fox which chases two rabbits will catch neither.”
but I am done with chasing rabbits
and watering tulip and muscari bulbs in the October springtime
I am willing to put the image of my sun-kissed fox
behind me.
I want September sunshine
I need red sunset
I’ll pursue a crashing wave
and fly into the face of a glowing inferno
because
I want you
I need you
I will let you love me
I will let you love me
and
as I rip and tear these lifelines to shreds
as I dissect my heart in an attempt
to figure out where it all went wrong
I’ll keep looking for you
between paving stones
I’ll keep searching for you
inside cracks in brick walls
I’ll keep seeking you
in whatever way I know how
praying
that since something so remarkable
does not allow itself to be forgotten
it also does not allow itself
to become part of the past.