Saturday, April 11, 2009

National Poetry Month: Day #11

A few years ago, one of my dearest friends, Elaine, became gravely ill. So ill, in fact, she died for a few minutes before doctors were able to revive her. Since then, she has made an astonishing recovery. She's had a second child. She has come back to being one of very few humans I know who lives largely in the present tense. I wrote this poem for her while she was recovering from that illness on April 4, 2003:

Back in Time

for Elaine

Under certain circumstances
it's easy to remember
your jangling, angling way
of talking, building
clause on clause the way life
is, so much a string
of dependencies.

It's easy, too, to recall
your laugh, that crisp
eruption of mirth
that follows the best
bitter ironies and least
appropriate jokes.

Remembering now how we sat
talking with no lights
on as summer stretched day
long into the night,
I pause to imagine
after coming so close
to nothing
but remembering
the next time we'll chatter
after you're back.
In time.

1 comment:

  1. Thanks, Dear, so much. I cherish that poem, and your friendship.