Fall, 1984
Photo courtesy of Johan Larsson
a measured word
a careful goodbye from you
and suddenly
words are flowing
like the music you requested
because, you said,
the title fit your
circumstance
I sat then, poised
between duty and passion
life and some sort of
sacred chronology
that you thought sacred, but I didn’t—
secure in my decision
I released the song
and it rose from a long
slumber
chord by chord it came back to me
renewed—
then nodding, smiling,
it went out to you
I released my voice
and it poured through
prescribed words
a holy meaning
from your decided distance
you rank the song and
file it alongside
other moments
This is an improvement, you say.
but where—the warm hand
I remember—
the tears that stood there
quivering—?
signs of weakness, I suppose
That’s all.
against their judgement
I reached for an embrace
but could not cross
the simple barrier
of skin
You are strong now.