Saudade

I had to stop explaining you:
as dear to me as food and air,
but never one and only.
(That sort of thing won’t do, you know.)
So I learned to say less,
and finally nothing at all.

But we’ve long moved past that place,
and no maps lead back to youth.
Let people draw their conclusions.

So if I were to pay respects,
would I speak the truth,
or stiffly force a smile
and offer a convenient cover:
He was just a friend.

Rather I should say instead
you were the indulgence
of a hard-edged age.
But then they would
howl their judgments,
quite certain of their certainties.

And so I’ll mark the hour alone,
lest the absurdity break my mind
and split my heart:
dark car,
flowers,
empty shell
in a box trimmed in silver.

In my thoughts I'll pick up a card
from the rear of the church
and pretend to read it
while trying not to scream.

It’s only words.
And a bell.
Tolling a reminder
that time passes
and so have you.

M.A. falleció 6/2/16