Family Roots
I’m always
envious when
I meet couples
who get it
right.
Why couldn’t
that have been
my parents?
Now
they have
a fearful daughter
who never
gives anyone
a chance.
-rr
Nostalgia
R.
The first boy after you
Was a swimmer too.
We made constellations and laughed about how the stars
Never quite lined up.
He had an open mind and open hands.
I had neither but offered them as if I did.
He never listened to me like you.
He moved to California,
Begging me to go with him.
I didn’t.
J.
The second boy after you
Was a basketball star.
Rated the nation’s top 50 college players.
Wanted me as much as I didn’t want him but
Somehow it went on longer then it should have.
We had snow ball fights and
Winter conversations by a lake and
he rambled on about how the most popular
girl in school broke his heart.
I almost told him about you and me but
I didn’t.
R.
The third boy after you
Was an aspiring missionary and pastor.
Even though he was never single for long,
His heart belonged to only God Almighty
And mine, well, I had misplaced it somewhere
in your mother’s old house.
He told me about the brilliance in
Israel and the vision of the believer.
I said I agreed with him, but
I didn’t.
L.
The fourth boy after you
Lives in New York, thirty miles from your school.
He made such similar facial expressions that you did
But somehow it just wasn’t the same.
He wasn’t as kind as you were and didn’t
Hold me as tenderly but I’m glad.
He talked about mythology and philosophy
And how sexy celebrity movie stars were
And I just smiled.
I wanted to tell him that I loved him,
But I didn’t.
None of them are you-
Or rather, you as you used to be.
but In the end,
Maybe that’s a good thing.
-rr
The Four
Because she wants to touch him,
she moves away.
Because she wants to talk to him,
she keeps silent.
Because she wants to kiss him,
she turns away &
kisses a man she does not want to kiss.
He watches thinking she does not want him.
He listens hearing her silence.
He turns away thinking her distant &
kisses a girl he does not want to kiss.
They marry each other— a four-way mistake.
He goes to bed with his wife thinking of her.
She goes to bed with her husband thinking of him.
—& all this in a real old-fashioned four-poster bed.
Do they live unhappily ever after?
Of course.
Do they undo their mistakes ever?
Never.
Who is the victim?
Who is the villain?
Love that never dies.
-rr
I Don’t Remember
I don’t remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.
I don’t remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.
I don’t remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together ,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.
I don’t remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.
And I don’t remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips, Only…
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you gently told me, ”I love you.”
-rr
My mother asked if I still love you.
I blush, grin and say;
of course.
Why?
Because your eyes are of the most utter ocean blue,
but other days they’re the currents of the stormy grey sea.
I see a current of salty water,
deep, once blue,
but now a faded grey.
I see a bundle of darkened grey clouds in the distance,
and the thunder rumbles from your irises,
and I hear it pound in the back of my mind.
I wonder if you knew.
I see a spark of lightening flash,
only once in a while,
while you look at her.
My throat corrodes with bile.
She says she sees green demons
lurking in the depth of my own ocean currents,
and I shrug.
What am I supposed to say?
I know you think about her.
Night and day.
The hardest part,
is a generic, old saying.
If you love them,
you let them go.
If they love you enough to stay,
or to come back,
you never let go.
But you haven’t come back.
-rr
