in memoriam
1. The Numerous Lenses
have swung into focus and captured you
a small figure at the centre.
A little adjustment, and I am looking into those brown eyes
with their slightly puzzled expression,
their absorbed, getting-it-clear, yes, that's-how-it-is
expression.
So you still ask yourself the same questions.
I smile at you, I feel so warm in your presence.
Then I remind myself you can't be real.
At once you begin to recede.
I want to call you back, but you shake your head.
Your hand moves in a gesture I know so well, and now, even
your look has faded.
ii. The Pool
The thin wands of the Chinese quince
drop their white flowers;
the pool's still eye reflects
cloud, sky and the sharp spears
of water iris.
You crouch on your knees,
your long hair streaming.
The mossy bush rock is an island.
You imagine
a forest of reeds.
You need no microscope,
only the image-maker's shifting lens
that captures an island
in the curve of a shell,
a star in the palm of your hand.
iii Sailing Ship
A fisherman's net stretched taut
across the hold of the ship,
the gangling teenagers stood gaping:
you wouldn't dare.
You dared. Spread-eagled, spider-like,
arms and legs clutching the web,
you dared. A perilous crossing.
And, that time, you made it.
If I could mesh my fingers in your hair
I would haul you back and hold you here.
iv. Chasing Horses
Girl running, quicker than thought,
the sliding black mass of your hair
hurls back the sun's sharp spears.
Horses, gleaming and black,
wheel in their track.
The stallion's mane is liquid flame
and your hair a river of light.
v. The Well
The bell-topped well
is half buried in rubble,
yet, under the hill,
the spring still bubbles.
And, like a violin, double-stopped,
I hear your voice singing -
and the quick, little catch as it lifts
from contralto to treble.
vi. Tall in the Night
Tall in the night, with the rain in your hair,
beautiful girl you welcomed me home.
Behind you the saplings rose tall and spare.
Your kiss on my lips felt soft and warm.
Never again will I find you there -
tall lovely daughter who greeted me well -
You lie like a sapling struck by the storm
out in the night with the rain in your hair.
vii. I Heard You Pass
Down the long corridor,
that night I heard you pass
effortlessly singing
to the warm bed waiting
and the smooth white sheet.
All your long days before you,
marriage and love and the accustomed task,
secure in your belonging
down time's corridor
you thought to pass.
Suddenly, singing stops in your throat
in a strangled cry of fear.
I place a compress on your forehead, hold you,
listen as you whisper
your last word, lovely.
Death may strike in a flood,
an avalanche, a fever
or in the red tide of your blood,
and speechless, blind, you leave me
where hands reaching cannot touch.
And my mind is a labyrinth
where I wait to hear you pass,
effortlessly singing,
and I listen for that last word, lovely,
and the little catch of your laugh.
viii. Requiem
I was with you at your conception
and on the day you were born:
you turned the clock back when you left me
who should have gone before.
A champagne rose grows over your ashes,
cream, with pointed buds and long stems,
angular as your colt-like beauty,
pure as your olive skin.
The rose planted, what could I do but leave you,
speechless, devoid of breath?
Death is the ultimate divider:
I walk alone, you lie in earth.
