Brian Burch

White sand beaches. A shadow erasing your footsteps before I could remember your passage.

A hand stretches forth to pull me from my exile.

Names fade into one another without time to become new.

Limestone buildings hold your shadow while I pass erasing your memory.

Instead of the classical plucking of an ex-lover’s Guitar;

Instead of the soft attempts to heal often shattered dreams;

Instead of pleasing phrases meant only for sharing;

I am left with the pounding of dripping faucets and the stale sound of flowers dying in your vase.

It is only a moment of forgotten joy but it lives none-the-less.

Trees echo the road and, unlike the past, there is no one waiting for me.

I turn to your memory of solace and pain, needing something concrete as an anchor.

Walls greyly shadow and take away the light.

Your letter arked our pasts, protecting old lies and unremembered betrayals.

But now your touch and your smile are a myth.

embers melt down old moments tie themselves on to the present

wine is poured only for me it doesn’t matter we chose this form

the paintings of me you promised and the songs for you that never came don't matter

a year or 60 is over old moments melting down this winter

wine is poured while I use the frames you left behind as kindling

What space is left for time to flow freely through

when, with each stretched instant, small bits of me die

falling away to fill the graves of unknown heros and fertilize wilted flowers?

once it did not take blandness to provoke action once joy was sufficient

once the smile of a passing stranger was reward enough

at one time you would even laugh without apparent reason

all that is gone the costume must be chosen with care the makeup must be correct for the role

once you tried freedom no longer for you freedom has become too bitter to live