7.02 Grieving in Light
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!
—Edna St. Vincent Millay
The fever of the city carries an aching rain.
On the east side, everything is dramatic and fragile.
My mouth rarely opened in daylight.
I had no answers here—listening for water, origin, white noise.
On this side, the east river is graying, everything fragile.
Your arrival was a light, then absence made it brighter.
I longed for answers—listened to water, myth, white noise.
Curled over sidewalks to find the missing, who chooses to leave.
Your arrival was drawn as light, then absence made it brighter.
The answers I longed for disappeared as myth, a cloud of white noise.
Curled over sidewalks to find the missing; you choose to leave
a fevered city, rain an ache you carry.