cluster

the fairy tale i wrote you loses another chapter.
barehanded in this humid autumn morning i rake
solemnly at twigs and leaves hoping to find
a glimmer, a sheen, remnant of a word
that might remind me.

half naked in this humid autumn evening
my eyes comb the tamed fire on the hearth.
the words i gathered today timidly sleep on my lap,
one by one i put each in my mouth
trying to remember how each tasted,
when you were the ear that faithfully listened.

and i cannot extract a drop of any feeling
that resemble a memory.
and i cannot find a little piece of my soul
to sell to the devil for a little dream of you.
in the gentle and ruthless beaches of time,
my fairy tale of you is a tide
on its way to receding,
taking from me the days,
the clothes you wore,
the color of your eyes,
the shape of your lips,
your voice and the truths you said,
the lies i told you and each line falling
between the once upon a time and the ever after,
including, your name and how its sound
tasted in my mouth, and how it tasted
when you were the ear that faithfully listened.

2007.oct.26