Loss I

2005-07-22

Somewhere in my brain,
cloistered among others
there is a cell that remembers
each second of that day.
But I've forgotten now
what I did then,
at the precise moment of your death.

Was I sitting or standing
in the empty world you left behind?
Was I silent and still?
Or did the pain come hurrying through
with a sound that shook the earth?

What was I thinking then?
Did I forge a sculpture in my mind,
a replica of your body, tall and thin,
a burial site to visit you in my dreams?

Or did I cup my hands like a magician,
before his dove takes flight?