Troubled Coast Owl Eyes
Last night you lost your only say
when you drove to the edge,
the cusp of the world and fell
off the deep end.
You cut through the sycamore groves
where autumn stains dry leaf floors.
Where you fun me and told me,
“There’s no tomorrow.”
Just a light at the end of a dock
tugging me across the sound.
But that void has erased and
we don’t feel like the stars and the moon.
Your disembodied face, the constant
fleeting memories, that won’t stay with me.
Of how the sun pushed through
and tugged on your hair, it won’t stay with me.
And now that girl is gone, she year by year recedes.
Please stay with me.
And we’re hanging on by a little string.
Strangers with the girl sleeping next me.
Whose windowsills collected rocks from
my nighttime pleas.
Now I’m missing every throw
shattering glass, piercing your
precious skin and cutting you
with my negligence.
