Half-Life

There is a void here
She logically stated as though
she were contemplating a
Painter’s incomplete masterpiece
She gazed upward to find
Tinsel pouring from thunderclouds like
God’s perpetually mourning eyes
What is real? she
Mused, bending trees, path and
Buildings before and behind her.
The passage of months, she knew, was
All that could warp her memories of
Denim, cigarettes- most of all
Skin and dawn’s light
A mutual equilibrium was being reached
Give and take-mend, only to break
She hoped ambition and guilt would be
Catalysts to elements only measured in
Half Lives
The sun rising and setting on
Futile stars and gauzy hope.

She could see moonbeams
Clinging to Boathouse awnings
She would never climb again
The airy timbre of the tree’s voice said,
Meanings are multiplying
Squeeze the seconds endowed on so few,
For this motion will never end
Hearts stopped for the girl with the
Silver shoes, who strolled upon the pond
Still, be my dearest, precious dove,
Even as the swan lifts into the noonday