I.

I know exactly how the moment will begin-
Silence. A white page/blank stage/early-morning-darkness.
Dirt roads. Heat and dust float inches above the surface,
the whinnying procession of early morning..

I know exactly where the moment will go-
how its broken legs will heal and break and heal and break and all
in the swift movement of dripping maple saps.

And the ending-
just a hint. the small fading light of sage and the potent
stars sky stars stars stars.


II.

The memory
found bunched together in the palms of my hands at the end of the day.

The remnants of a hundred passing stories on the street—
crumpled in my fisted walk and emptied later
onto the not-so-white skirt of my wedding dress.

Words of one man, smiles, tasseled loafers
Two front teeth on the sidewalk—someone, when eating dinner,
will realize they forgot them.
Atlas’ umbrella, fruit stands, deepening puddles, sweaty excuse me-s,
complete non-secularity holding hands with pinked romance.
(mocking the center of our being)

All the day’s bookends are hung together.


III.

Some pieces lie side by side like aged lovers that wake up at exactly 6:04 am.
Twin sets of eyes breech their cocoon to the light of loving dawn on their potted-soil faces.
Others are clumsily taped like children’s pastings and not so candid candid photos.
But somewhere in this mess, in the excess glue, stray uncooked macaroni noodles, and meticulously phrased sequins, somewhere, look for me. I beg you.

10/20/2005

Posted on 10/20/2005
Copyright © 2024 Gabrielle L Gervais