Where were you when the night caught fire,
and the stars shredded silver filings on the blazing wind?
Why did my hand catch at empty air
and loose feathers, museum-dull,
instead of the comet’s tail?
I think I saw you sauntering by the river,
whistling low a tune we used to share,
your hands full of moonbeams
to offer to someone else.
Where did it go, the cool, green love,
Slip-sliding through sun-slanting beams of summer?
Did it follow the last of the geese fleeing the ice floes
Or sink, a trunk of treasure trove, beneath cold waves?
Beyond the lament, the final hissing sparks,
of falling fireworks,
I thought I heard a blackbird sing,
Or perhaps it was the fading strings
of a romantic film,
the flickering screen I cannot see
through this veil of tears.