Okay, a singularly unoriginal title for my experiment.
The last writing workout was writing about loss. I had wanted to write a poem for a friend on the anniversary of her death, so I experimented by writing snippets, thoughts, images, mememories of her out on cards over the whole weekend and then collaging them into a poem.
At one point I had gone out for the evening and forgot that I was “remembering” Gabrielle over the weekend until the next morning, then felt guilty for forgetting. So that’s in here, too.
Thought About You
For Gabrielle Bouliane, One Year Gone
I’m done baking and remember you.
Remember that I’m supposed to be remembering.
I want to say I’m sorry for every minute gone by,
but that is mortal guilt and not for angels or sunflowers.
Your candle lit in the livingroom and I must leave the house.
Someone once told me
never blow out reverent candles,
but snuff them with metal.
I hear you laugh through my superstition.
Motorcycle lipstick, coming down at me love.
Is it better to leave a candle nub or burn it to the end?
I think about my old motorcycle,
wonder if I’ll ever be that daring again.
I bet you ride sharp and clear like a sting.
I bet you leave star dust, kicking into cosmic gear.
I bet your kiss could wrap humanity,
and we’d all grow suddenly hungry.
Oh, Gabby, I’m afraid
the world has gone crazy.
I wish there were more of you
of your voice of your word
I can hear your tone your eyes your stance
I can hear the waves of you on stage
I can hear you working next to me,
cranking through ideas.
First day on the job at The Poetry Factory,
you spilled a coke on the new Mac keyboard
and it didn’t work for a day.
But it was just us, and we could laugh it away.
What isn’t done in the sticky hours isn’t what strikes us down.
Oh, Gabby, the only thing I fear
more than this crazy world
is not living in this crazy world.
To be alive is to get uncomfortable,
to get up on stage and tell the world
I’M DYING and you’re all coming with me,
my friends, my beautiful beautiful friends.
You caught us with our genius showing,
a challenge dancing in the wind.
You came into this world gifted and aimed,
and I can’t help wondering
what target would you have hit
in your Golden Days?