In Your Own Words


Four vowels comprise her name -
say deft, say kiss, dance, death -
four smoke rings, linked exemplars
of her faculty, her advocacy
and her carnal grammars.

To formulate the margins of her eyes,
four steps to duskfall, moonfall snared
to mirror her momentum and her style -
say topaz, amber, auburn, black -
her lip and boyish shoulder, archer's stance,
and one impatient gesture of disdain,
an earlobe tethered in a straying curl.
Laughable? Now say charm, say warm, was warm.

Or perhaps subsume her
in four fragrances, four dialects
abandoned but still braiding
here with then - orchid, Havana,
Lentherique, quinine - to wrench the noose,
affirm and reaffirm her.

Nothing is willed or planned or made
inevitable - ever, say is it ever? -
even by chance, by one too many faces
in a room - but somewhere
leaves ash to smoulder
as she left scents on gowns, in cars -
whisper October, whisper smoke and gold -
forsook her shoes by doors left open -
say go, don't go, grown old -
or charred the lips of unfamiliar tables
with her frank, familiar,
discarded black cigars.