In memoriam Pauline Uchmanowicz
Bare feet flat on earthen tiles,
cool soles pat arabesques.
It’s solstice. Out tall window-doors,
spires to remind us
of what we’ll never be, reach…
The sound of distant river’s
of wine spilled for you, water,
friend, close by, a windswept
fountain heard as laughing patios of praise.
So like solace in this year of loss,
the missed rising to the longest sun.
Evanescent minds are minarets of grief,
break silence nebulous as clouds,
literal as belief,
when we ignore the call to prayer
trilling against that tendered sky,
twilight of pursed lips—
this is how I remember losing…
*Previously published in Chronogram, September 2019