he would fall to my arms in a recollection hear preserved
he would come to me
this is seeing softly
with eyes of a spirit
my view is pressed to the surface
it is the space of a sky
infinite eyes are in mine

he would come to me in formulated phases
as i silently recalled the words at his direction
he would come to me as a poem

he could relate impression in a tone
he is my memory holding
he is my story

with eyes half closed
orpheus eyes less tragic
a ghost has crossed a word musician
and i hold him for the duration of a sentence

i construct his form
then lift a pen from the surface
it is written
releasing him
it is a dragonfly’s exit

that color taking flight
it is astonishing


© lily gillespie morton, 2007




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