STONE ARC


It was a wide arc of stone, suspended in sky

Where I insisted on holding a march, a parade

Where I insist on watching. Women and children parade

In the blindest white, an ironic image of death. As everyone

(Sans me, hiding beneath said arc) entered the double doors

Of a manic church, I managed to get a glimpse of you.

Carried away by the swirling crowd, I imagine it's worse

Than being drowned. I know how you don't like crowds,

Only me-- You reach out to me, calling-- I'm a solitary figure.

It was then in my gaze I saw her, the other half of

Me, upon the church. Standing above the march that insists

On taking you away (unintentionally). She's also looking at

You, the way I am now, the way I was. And so begins

Her descent into your arms, out of all the crowd, you

Caught her, a baby again. You caught me. And to my

Horror I watched you go, your own free will this time.

But did you look back to me, or was I imagining? Did I see

apology in your eyes? Have you become driven like everyone else

In that march? Or worse, nothing of the sort-- I dreamt

You had to enter those large doors. You had to,

And I've lost you. In our last shared glance, did

I mirror resignation? I think I've lost you.