Love Lost

A Poem

Declare your misery with a voice that turns milk, snaps icicles from the eaves and sends them — plunging crystal daggers — to shatter and melt on the frozen shoals of my winter soul. I have shut the door, my ears made deaf beneath oceans of tears, And though your pickaxe sounds may chip away the lock will not give. Dismal echoes, the ghosts which haunt Crying in the thin, dead leaf voices of summers past That once we were, Once.

***

My starving eyes crave the tumbled beauty of all the lovely places where the soles of my feet have known what it is to tread lightly on a warm afternoon ten fingers locked telling secrets about nothing sistered and sharing the summer’s perfume, living as one out of a country valise untroubled in love.