For so many reasons, obvious and otherwise, I've returned to reading one poem by another…
The sky is wide and forgiving.
There were leaves and grass in my hair
and a different look about me when you loved me.
In the mirror, my morning face is map relief.
You told me once it had the look of a canyon,
cheekbones its ridges, the slope of neck the hollow
they fell into where your hand briefly rested.
Not even you would recognize me now.
All the ways I turned away.
All the ways I tried to hold what you carried.
All the ways the back-beat and the blown stars
weren’t nearly light enough above us,
left boot heel in the 4-count of your name beneath my breath,
my eyes closed on the dance floor,
my hair spinning.
You said Halo and I said Ssshhhhh.
If I close my eyes, does it mean you cannot see me?
©2010 Dora E. McQuaid
ALL PEACE TO EACH ONE OF YOU. DORA
Painting by the incomparable artist Kimberly Webber,
in her gallery, Untitled Fine Art, in Taos, New Mexico.