|
Unforgotten |
Like rogue species
of a shadow life,
unforgotten agreements
circle back
season upon season,
mood upon mood,
defying taxonomies,
hungering for completion.
Yesterday,
and so many days before,
it was the failed test,
the fumbled ball,
the broken jaw;
your old crippled friend
who sent you away
then swallowed all the pills
you’d left by his bed;
the dog that ran
under your tire,
writhing in the rearview mirror
as you drove on in the twilight.
Then, today,
from your crying silence,
came the girl down the street
who once landed on your porch
looking for sugar and milk
and stayed that lonely afternoon,
the same young mother
you passed in the park
the very next year,
the one with the baby,
the one who followed you
without seeing you,
like eyes in a painting.
copyright 2006
Jack
Cooper |
