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Break


i.

He grasped your hand and pulled you roughly into the hug and
if it was possible for a heart that was no longer yours to break for
his sadness then it did, break, his arms strong around you but
already far away and trembling in advance and waiting for the
moment when it cannot be anymore and you are both gone and
there is not even remembering because remembering hurts
and there he goes you are walking away from each other back
to back and you cannot forgive him you cannot forgive yourself
you cannot forgive the world for making this road that goes in
two directions, these opposite and echoing sets of footprints,
the last and final indignity: separation and loss.


ii.

I can overlook rainy days in the middle of May,
I can forgive brown Christmases and skyscrapers
and weak-willed ozone layers. I am sympathetic
for staggering rainforests and cracked sidewalks
crumbling into nothingness.

I can even put up with those stupid birds at my
windowsill at dawn on a Saturday and tornado-train
sounds at 3 a.m. on Mondays and moonless
Halloweens.

But I cannot forgive this empty mailbox,
the deserted street, the door un-knocked,
the everlasting echo: tennis shoes on blacktop,
slapping away from me, your tall shadow following
willingly, without a second glance.


iii.

We are children. Our chocolate-sticky fingers follow
our life-lusty eyes, gazing wide and swallowing it
whole. The world. And a perfect tiny sparkle: this figurine.
I will call it love. I must have it. I press it to my chest,
I must hug it into my very being.

It is perfect. And it shatters.

Chocolate-sticky perfection, sharp shards of
lost wholeness in my lap.

Is this how babies cry? Before words the
violation of loss and sick with evil.

Evil is this broken love. We held it because
we wished to be held and now we have
only ourselves. Hell.

More mistakes and promises to follow.


iv.

Side by side, they had that kind of glow.

Sitting alone,
she was bound to notice.

Someone in glasses made chemistry jokes and the lounge singer
twirled his microphone cord, closing his eyes and giving into the
jazz. She didn't mean to look their way a second time, but the singer
hit that note and her heart ached for love. Their gaze was golden.

Everyone was applauding when the night ended and not looking.
Except.

And when they left (alone?) without each other,
it was the most tragic thing in the world.