You did not heed
that picture of you,
the black and white I took
at the library
in the back of the house.

We were invited. Remember?
Everyone went to feed.
We were jetlagged and the sun
felt like the one
we shut down above the clouds.

Your hair was jagged wild.
Your eyes, naturally clear,
shot black on the high-speed.
You raised your arm
and became a serpent

without props,
aftereffect,
or even lipstick.
It didn't take long
for the exact moment

for the blue light
to scatter the books,
the words falling over
to rearrange themselves
after every click.

Invariably I compare
as your sigh softens,
to the poets sorted
alphabetically
in their silent coffins.


jam16