Oh how quickly your memory fades

1.
I was still saying goodbye, or trying 
to ground you here beside 
the curtained window and the steady rain 
and the warm pulse of my body

while outside the neighbor’s daughter trotted 
circles in the driveway, echoing the dizzy flume of 
supposed-to-be-southbound birds
black in the roaring sky but

you were already elsewhere.
Your eyes like eggshell blue but 
burning they hollowed two holes 
through the white walls we could not follow.

2.
there is liberation in remembering 
the difference between death and the airy 
movement from sunflower to snow 

but my heart is still hooked 
on the callousness of peeling 
hard-boiled eggs in the parking lot

 
one hour after I curled my fingers into 
your gray nest of hair and held you

as raucous breath rocketed 
your chest to the ceiling, I held you 

as the stench soaked through 
your yellowed skin, I held you

and as foamy brown waves rushed 
against the shore of your lips, I held you 
        

        whispering 

oh Mary, may you be free of all this

        whispering

god help me

        whispering 

goodbye.

3. 
The wind spins darkly outside my window
like a spider winds her prey.   
Telephone wires intrude upon the 
wild dance of douglas firs 
along the island highway.
Tonight the moon must fight
for its place in the piercing sky, 
and the stars are left behind. 
I hardly notice my unremembering
your wrinkled brow when I asked 
have you ever been in love? 

for Mary