Crescent City, California.
Just south of the Oregon border.
We always said we were going to drive to the coast,
Touring the lighthouses.
That’s the last time I see you,
When you slip out of my arms and into the wind.
At last I cry you out of my life.
We’ve done it now, my dear, and as I drove north with you
from Point Lorna to Point Montara to Crescent City,
I knew that each mile travelled
Was another mile closer to saying goodbye.
On the drive my concern was how with each mile
A little more of you slipped away from me.
In the biting wind and on the slippery rocks at
Point Conception, I dropped you and you rolled away.
At last I cry you you out of my life.
I retrieved you from the abyss,
As you once saved me from my drinking.
With nervous and relieved laughter
I resumed our drive and later
On the ocean wind
The last of your ashes gets in my eyes.
At last I cry you out of my life.
YOU ARE READING
"Dance for me, in the hex-chambers"
ŞiirA assemblage of poetic forms; entry for the 2012 Attys