what's left

"Each time my heart is broken it makes me feel more adventurous (and how the same names keep recurring on that interminable list!), but one of these days there'll be nothing left with which to venture forth." -Frank O' Hara
from Meditations In An Emergency


i thought he saw me.

saw beyond a version of me
stepped out of silent black & white moving photos
come through blood, smoke and wine
draped over a chaise
(a long forgotten time)
when longing could bring lovers back -
bring flowers from tall elegant men
backing gracefully out a door without
apology.

I thought he would forgive me.

for grief and celebration
for joy and disappointment
for falling thus far
for jumping so much farther than fallen
for not being able to count
never counting, nor recounting
nor remembering what has been counted
forgetting to add eight plus five.
it is twelve
my thirteen
adolescent let down
visions and rewrites
and such a frustrated mother.

i thought he saw me.

and though the prospect is frightening-
i think a woman should stand by herself
Loretta,
till a man steps forward
who has the stomach for it.

if he could see

(the old flame fragile and
balancing
dancing tirelessly
susceptible to sighs and
the wick running out)

if he would ask to come inside

(to see her shake champagne and
never fearing pop the cork
knowing bubbles do taste sweet-
they clean up easy)

if he would follow

(despite her clumsy footsteps
circling
tripping stairways
running hallways
and fall into the chaos of her bed)

if he would listen

(to her whispers
to her poems
translate her secrets into songs -
gently take her hand in time to
pull her arm around him
resting steady at his side)

O but what's left?

what i couldn't hide
and all that he missed.