The Innisfree Poetry Journal
www.innisfreepoetry.org
by Colette Thomas
[since you asked]
I sometimes it's a matter of looking in the mirror sometimes it's packing your bags, latching the shutters and leaving instructions for the caretaker I don't remember there being so many forks in the road veins on the back of my hand blue rivers to the heartland when I finally found your address they told me you had moved--five, six, seven years or more--nobody knew where on the dust-laced streets of this godforsaken town no one I ask can give me directions sometimes you just start walking sometimes you just keep going
II you can fool some of the people some of the time you can fool yourself a lot of the time, but not indefinitely how's that been working out for you a stranger turns in the waiting room and asks how much longer do you think that fragile little platform can hold up all that weight? a tract that's been overplanted a forest overgrown wildfires have their function hold it off if you think you can there's something about sleeping on the ground in the open air nothing between you and the billion lights glittering along the lining of that vast unreachable curve something about the clarity that blows through after the house burns down leaving more in its place than you imagined you lost no fooling
III I would recommend riding out to meet it I would recommend wearing sunflowers and nothing else on a blue morning after the sea has dragged back whatever it chose to take after the silt has dried to a fine powder and begun its migration on the next breeze they've all left town and now is your chance you can think ruins or you can think highway either way either one I would advise leaving before nightfall
[after]
what I expected if I expected anything at all was a kind of echoey reverb footfalls down the locker-lined corridor after school those hallways going on and on in their sepia retreat but no it is very very quiet even I who invested beyond all prudence beyond all need in the costly brocade of speech even I am left without the vowels and consonants it might take to populate this space what else but to lie down with one ear pressed to the cooling earth the slow brown leaves drifting down small swirling gestures against the vast and irreducible blue one or two glancing off my hair the soft hollow at the back of my knee a kind of unplanned kiss delivered from the other side of the emptiness as light as the press of footsteps that have already gone away not those at the wet sand's edge as the tide comes in but those other steps in the vestibule in the lengthening light after everyone has gone home except one quiet man with a broom who goes on working long after I recognize this place I did not expect to visit again
[markers]
if I spoke every language but yours softening face of sheer granite ripe smear of mulberry solitary crow feather fluttering down compadre corazon mi amigo how fares it with you though I might not have wished such a stringent blessing I rejoice with you now to have come this far knowing the avalanche has closed the pass behind you there is no other way petroglyphs their gravid whispering any language but yours meine Freundin mon frere we come to this point all of us staring into the dust for tracings cursing the erasures at noon the shadows won't help we've all heard the stories the trudge across unforgiving sand curtains of heat shimmering from dune after dune to arrive parched hours later at the start of the circle the very same marked with the stamp of your own eroding bootprints you fall to your knees in the face of the irrefutable I would not have wished it but you see how skilled you have become how your heart has swallowed the gold of the whole wide desert you shine with it lighting your way lighting mine in any language but our own sine curve of secrets threading back and forth the closed circle opening my friend bright mirror of my heart those footfalls echoing down the canyon those snowdrifts covering whatever has passed through traces and erasures the softening face the sweet and whispered this way this way
© Copyright 2006-7 by Cook Communication
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