2017 04 20
Alone in the basement of his dark house,
Bryan watches movie flickering on wall
that shows young woman in long yellow dress
laughing as she glides with self-conscious pride
among flowers grown higher than her hips.
Her voice soft as wings of butterflies echoes
off cement walls when flash of sunlight beams
over distant mountains, and swirling rays
suffuse the features of her face in glow
of hopeful faith as she recites short poem.
"I love that feeling when playful wind blows
long hair around my face because the light
of ten thousand suns sparkles in my cells."
She smiles and gazes beyond end of time
for several minutes while wind blows blonde hair
wild like butterflies fluttering between blooms.
Letting the movie reel whirl after end
of the strip snaps loose, Bryan drinks more wine,
then flips the switch to turn off glowing light,
and walks outside to stand on squishy mud
of broad lawn littered with parts of old cars.
Staring at rain clouds that shroud gleaming moon,
Bryan sighs sadly, refusing to hum
melody of melancholy despair
that he feels surging outward in thick waves
from searing ache of loss still cutting sharp.
Sudden wind, moist from hours of drenching rain,
swirls hair around his face, whipping his eyes,
so he laughs and swallows a wrenching sob.
"Tara said a lot of things in three years,
since we met at the wedding of our friends,
in our endless conversations on life,
till the drunk driver plowed into her car,
but, since that is the only thing she said
that was ever recorded onto film,
that poem preserves the beauty of her soul.
I forgot everything else about her
except that time we walked the mountain trail
among flowers on the wild California coast."
Black raven lands on statue of an angel,
that stands palming its hands in stone birdbath,
and squawks the aching sorrow of his heart.