Endings
I.
Mark plays Mahjong
on the roof of the Orpheum
and I beg him to take me with him,
free my feet from the tired concrete.
II.
Once, your hands could solidify me
bring me out of the ether, to ground.
But I am out of your reach, too far gone
for your flesh to hold me down.
III.
My life is a dream of flying.
Lost in a surging crowd of strangers
my feet are tethered only by memory
the familiar scent of your skin lingering.
IV.
I am longing to forget the color
of a vase full of calla lilies in a halo
of morning sunlight. What I have lost
is too important to remember.
V.
I want to recall only azure,
the precipitant kiss of clouds on my skin,
miles above the street,
lifetimes beyond my grief.
September 20, 2000