Always when I rise to go, your eyes blaze out from a face gone wickedly pale. Edna St. Vincent Millay
In the evening we came back
into our yellow room,
for a moment taken aback
to find the light left on,
falling on silent flowers,
table, book, empty chair
while we had gone elsewhere,
had been away for hours.
When we came home together
we found the inside weather.
All of our love unended
the quiet light demanded,
and we gave, in a look
at yellow walls and open book.
The deepest world we share
and do not talk about
but have to have, was there,
and by that light found out.
May Sarton (American 1912 - 1995) “A Light Left On”
(kind of like Tumblr, a room we leave with the light left on)
i woke without you and the igloo
seeming colder. i could peek
out the crawl-hole but if the entire
spinning earth’s imaginary i don’t want to know.
i have my pelts and visions
of you asleep in your summer skin loving
the deep heart of a tall grass prairie.
i have polar bears and snow
blindness. you have sunsets
striking the silent crows iridescent.
when they swoon to their own new beauty
and the chorus frogs kick in, do you think
of me thinking of you thinking of me?
i tell you what. if i had an albatross
i’d let it lift me like a message
to the jet stream just as the toothy flows
ingest our empty love-shell. you would know me
by the touch of ice on the tongue
of the wind. you would wait with a bouquet
of black feathers and the rest of
our story still warm on your lips.
“the moments before the crash landing are clearest,” Andrew Michael Roberts