escape velocity
it is on these nights
your name recalls itself to my lips:
a night of fire, a woman
perched on a high-voltage tower
bare feet pounding through puddles
my face half-reflected, engraved
on landscapes outside the bus window.
on other nights, I don't miss you so much;
gentle nights full of stars and cool winds
when my bed is big enough only for me,
you are merely an absence. I cover
the place where you might lie with blankets
and sleep on my mattress
that has its own memorial
between the springs.
Dust has more memory of me than I of you.
these nights, though, I don't mind
the voice that rises to the top of my throat,
the face that lies behind my eyes.
the way light fools me is a comfort
when the trick is the illusion of presence.
I let go and believe
as the sirens wail without.
for a little while I am your wizard
and you are standing, shifting,
looking at me with something
someone else might have called love.
7/28/00