I remember the crackle of rice paper letter harboring fine-edged words.
Japan seemed so far away.
I remember whiskey burning, nicotine fumes and gentle laughter.
Irish accent made Greyhound time race.
I remember New York held at bay by airport offering a cold plaster bed.
City coaxed, Dane-man beckoned . . . was denied.
I remember spittle in an oft-voiced tirade, stubborn refrain of sins imagined.
One more tangled conversation, phone line untied.
I remember sun creeping over granite and forest, heart under folded arms.
Shadow of sleeping indian.
I remember wind plastering snake-tendril’d hair to cheeks damp with rain.
Arms lift to lightening bolts in somber appeal.
I remember. I remember. I remember.
When will I forget?
when you finally emerged from between my thighs
And your eyes met mine
Spark of new life.
Oh, how I remember
The whirring hum and clicks and beeps of
Life sustaining machines
That tied you firmly to this earth.
How your eyes struggled
Flutter on, little one.
Hours spent gazing
On the softness of your face;
Only your chest giving evidence
In repose –
Your tiny lips pursed,
On a dreamed-of breast?
As though it were just yesterday
Salted waves threaten to spill
Over cracking dams
To flood parched plains
And bring new life again.
Through all the years
Each little milestone of
First Christmas presents
First tumbles from bicycles, from trees
First nights away
First baseball games
And overnight hikes
First broken hearts
And marching in parades
So many memories
So many days . . .
When we packed your bags
So close to an adult
So young yet
So filled with need and hope