Saturday, November 9, 2013

The Encounter

In conclusion, while he is also
in seclusion
           near that edge of town
where  wind flies toward the sea
carrying lamp flicker and birds,

                                  he finds
the 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
of heartache
               that became his own

when he overhead she’d be leaving
on the morning train to Taipei. Buds
like numb fingertips
                       on  the plum tree. Her luggage
locked up with everything she owned, loved.

No, it is the meaning
of 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.



No comments: