100 years
Not enough
To settle into
Wrinkling bag-

No sooner wisdom
Calms the mind

We are found out

And gone

My Dancing Girl-

Perhaps the Spring
In our Leap

Has stretched but
My Spirit Soars

With your head
Rested

Upon my shoulder

it is honest in its opalescence.
my love listens
                        to the rising tide
                        &  the ebb&flow
my love buries itself in green
                               -bottle sand.

You, with your
                           searching
                           fingers
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
, You are missing
from Me.

in a letter to a friend,
never written, never
said, sad, it is impossible.

to explain. there will be karma,
guilt, ridden over mountains,
over years. tis tough is guilt.

the back bedroom, hankies
folded ready, in every room,
in pockets now gone musty.

the pottery is dusty.
i have another life.

i have a new letter.

Did you ever think of staying?
Or was leaving the only way
you knew how to love me?

Was I too much,
or not enough?
Did I ask for things
you couldn’t give,
or did you offer less
than you were able?

I wonder if you held back your truth
to protect me,
or to protect yourself
from watching me fall apart.

The answers don’t come.
But the questions—
they stay.
Lodged somewhere between
my ribs and my memory,
quiet,
persistent,
unanswered.