The dots and dashes fall
Like raindrops of molten lead
From the thundercloud of unforgiving memory.
The bright metal spatters of regret
Fix themselves irrevocably.
My wife died of brain cancer
Ten years ago.
When I reached her bedside
Her broken mind had left her
Wandering through chaos.
Those most precious
Final unsaid words
That must be said
Remain locked in frustration.
Inside my memory.
Forty nine years before,
We lived in Paris
For about seven months.
We stayed the same time length
In West Berlin on Hölderlinstrasse
Where, in the elevator,
I kissed her so desperately
I cracked the mirror on the wall.
Then, Oak Ridge Tennessee,
Where the Klu Klux Klan
Burned a cross on our lawn
In discipline for our friends
To honor me in loyalty
And donate a small proud smile.
Then Brooklyn, New York City,
Tel Aviv after the short war,
And then Helsinki where
We first met and fell in love,
I am still here, and will remain.
Those unspoken words, clenched firm ,
Within the swirl of constant memories
Have become heavy, monumental,
Black shapes against my midnight skies.
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