In conclusion, while he is alsoin seclusion
near that edge of town
where wind flies toward the sea
carrying lamp flicker and birds,
he findsthe reason she has haunted him.
Not how softly slender she fell
into her sweater and skirt, both the mauve shade
of feather grass.
Not her perfect hand plucking
a string of kelp in the tide – a floating chord
that became his own
when he overhead she’d be leavingon the morning train to
like numb fingertips
on the plum tree. Her luggage
locked up with everything she owned, loved.
No, it is the meaningof her name –
light rain. If only there had been
a soft shower, an ink wash on glass. Spring’s
characters saying and not saying
all the reasons
they should start again, grow
into something pure, deep.
Then he wouldn’t be here, casting
his whole mind
into her shadow.