Only You will Know

if Night slips by
and you don’t notice
the verdigris left
on the back of your
smooth cotton shirt
where you’ve been leaning
against old cemetery gates
waiting in vain with Vladimir
and Estragon

don’t ask me
where time went
or how the stains got there

Keats understood
flight of time,
and Yeats knew
the beauties and dangers of modernity
but none could know
my steadfast heart.

Daedelus, father of Icarus,
borrowed by Joyce,
flew free of the isle
while his son failed.

Cemetery gates don’t call me,
I’m wanted everywhere I go,
except by you
my parallel self.
So, you go;
Believe yourself unwanted,
my raven-haired Icarus.

I’ll fly alone,
low, along the line of cerros —
my heart will carry you
ever
next to the cool flesh
of my soul.

I trust you will wake
from dream tracings
of my fingers on the
verdigris left
on the back of your shirt
where you’ve been leaning
against cold cemetery gates
waiting in vain, when I’ve always been
right here resting into the warm
skin of this Tree, wanting you,
loving you
even though you don’t.

~LD

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