Guardian gone
(For Rilke’s angels)
lost angel
there when young, guardian
—
comforting one…
of an evening
as head rested on the
pillow,
nostrils inhaling sunshine
the cotton had
captured…
softer than sun-captured
butter,
forehead recalling the
ocean
sand smoothed
footprints erased
each time waves
venture forth
then back, then forth
again…
once always alongside,
present as a stick
held in the hand
to run along the fence
or a school bag, rotten
fruit forgotten within,
slung across a
shoulder —
accepted, never
consulted,
a weight that lifted hours
and words;
helped with the walk
away home,
provided the reminder
to return.
the time cannot be pinpointed
nor the place
the mislaying occurred,
only that
one morning discovered
to be no longer…
winter heralds a dearth,
trumpets emergent
silence and
the sun’s escalation
of distance…
no matter how often
a remote reflection is
glared at
he will not return…
cannot —
he would no longer
recognize me
even if he was
looking.
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