A strand of pearls
A single lamentation, I’m done?
No, just a different one, to name the rains,
tintinnabulation at the window,
the bent lament of morning’s radiance
refusing to appear at this blue glass
where last night I could reach out, name the stars,
many, many my imaginations.
Where are the pearls you wore in your engagement photo
watching me from the piano as I pass by,
piano you played until the end, even half-blind.
These pearls—the girl who wore them stands right now
beside me, mere seconds, in this prayer-poem.
Seconds. God, the cruelty of prayer.