Cherry
The lights and ambulances of the scene
call me, my inconsistencies evident.
Consistency is my middle name, your
beads dragging on the pavement—
Everything soaks up the rain.
My eyes choose one drop’s journey down
the windshield, rather than watch your sun set.
Those hues. That sudden horizon.
They never suited our eyes anyway.
“Our job,” they showed us, “is to be unclear.”
Muddy as it were, dodging simplicities,
going by the book and missing it by volumes.
“Closed,” they sighed, turning your page.
Ashes to dust, my feet kicking water
after seeing you vanish in the cold of the earth.
They all wished you so well, the grass
yellow under the shivering audience.
Even now, you can put on a show.
call me, my inconsistencies evident.
Consistency is my middle name, your
beads dragging on the pavement—
Everything soaks up the rain.
My eyes choose one drop’s journey down
the windshield, rather than watch your sun set.
Those hues. That sudden horizon.
They never suited our eyes anyway.
“Our job,” they showed us, “is to be unclear.”
Muddy as it were, dodging simplicities,
going by the book and missing it by volumes.
“Closed,” they sighed, turning your page.
Ashes to dust, my feet kicking water
after seeing you vanish in the cold of the earth.
They all wished you so well, the grass
yellow under the shivering audience.
Even now, you can put on a show.