DAY RIPENS INTO NIGHT

Lady on a balcony
remembering what it was

to touch & to caress the trembling
mouth of love

reading Rilke

even as his eyes
had turned to look

upon his death

holding the hand that would never
hold her hand again

( except in dreams )

somewhere in that sunset
his ashes

scattered to the morning
each atom of his being

still listening to the words
that you repeat...repeat

drinking the grief
of silent tears

to touch and to caress

your trembling mouth

my love.