5 haven’t seen you around for a while

5

haven’t seen you around for a while
sent you a poem last week about that one perfect day we shared in charleston
but my phone tells me the message hasn’t been read
i stopped by your house last night
you said it wasn’t safe to come
but i’m worried about you kid
an empty bottle of syrah sat where you usually do when you need to write away the demons
the glass
smeared with lipstick you bought for our christmas date
wasn’t quite empty
perhaps you’d had enough
perhaps you’d disappeared
i called your name
searched every room
but you were gone
as i turned to go
a gust of wind swept through the open door
carrying a twisting thread
hovering as if it had not the mass to fall
nor the will to rise
i caught it
the scent of you touched me
for a pregnant instant
i curled the string around my fingers
slipped it in my shirt pocket
smiling at the memory of your hand
touching the fabric to feel how soft
was your excuse

i thought of all the places we’ve shared
elliott bay’s creaking wood floors and shelves of essays
the fallen tree deep in the woods where we knew no one would stumble upon us
the benches along lake washington
i think we’ve sat in each one
the harvest vine on madison, so small we laughed about eating with the chefs
the library at salish lodge we snuck into and stole the fire’s warmth with a complimentary, for guests only, cup of coffee
the least of our sins
i went to them all
and found in the silence
floating down a hall
hovering in a corner
hiding beneath the undergrowth
trailing low across the water
threads of you
i wound each with the first
colorless blacks and greys
but as i collected your pieces
flecks of coral and late afternoon sunlight and running shoes yellow appeared
i purchased needles from a man in a fedora
sewing patches on torn jeans in a street fair booth
he must have recognized the fear in my eyes
worry that i possessed not the skill to weave your pieces back together
his shaking hand clasped mine as i turned to go
and he croaked four words above the din as if each one hurt
“one thread at a time”

 

 

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