02 | September | 2015 | Golden Star Poetry

as i safeguarded you
i knew there would always be a tomorrow when,
lazily draped over the sun
there you would always be,
your face.

you tumbled onto a grassy shelter of concrete
your edifice
sanctuaried here, on this
lone bus stop.

i’d mourn,
but no one has been laid down
no one is dead.

if it had all been real, though
i’d mourn the thought of being squashed down
being lost somewhere in the middle;
i’d murmur in the moment i had touched the
solid gold year, the ripe fruit of the fresh year
the orange-blossom-laden year
palm to heart, pressing like a dart
pressing my torso,
rocking:

mourning for a dead moment
i stood by the stoop
mourning for the still moment
short minutes long,
that i held the crisp autumn air of ripe truth
when i held your water eyes in mine-
when i had looked into my calm, opiate future
in your pooling eyes:

i saw the book-filled apartments and the
late nights and the
long trips and the
aching shade and the
long walks down the city streets,
talking or laughing of nothing at all–
but you needn’t look to find me now,
all i ever do now is mourn.