A shortcut through the graveyard
a headstone inscribed
I didn’t know
how much
I loved her
until after
I had died
I sat listening to his story
my ear pressed to the stone
We never fully know ourselves
dead before I met her
she really loved
seeing things in me
I came very close
I played a few notes on the piano
never came to much
she believed
I was Rachmaninoff
igniting savor in her heart
Doodling on a napkin
I’m Dali the surrealist
my pallet over-spilling
a golden sun
her beaming portrait
breaks through old walls
and she melts over me
from head to toe
I wrote three lines in simple rhyme
who knows knows what my words are worth
free verse floating everywhere
genius pouring feathers and quills
engaged in self discovery
she said I helped her find
the poem in her life
every invention
ends with a poetic kiss
I am Socrates the philosopher
she nestles in the contour of my side
considering each word and line
reveling in my brilliance
she is breathing me in
lovingly re-invented
I am breathing too
I’ve become Atlas
a very strong man
as she touched my skin
whetted imagination
a world of beauty
rests gently on my shoulders
She helped me pack and move
and inhabit all these living places
forgiving sin and weakness
and survivals essential lies
From the dust of desolation’s
disbelief in green things
a memory weeping
so softly
a buried conflict
comes back to life
