We were on the beach again
you and I
I saw you, but only out of the corner
of my eye. When I tried to look you
weren’t there. Not gone, just
not there.
*
It’s not only on Mother’s Day, it’s when I see mothers
with their kids, brothers
with brothers, sisters
with brothers; my own kids, together. My nieces and nephews.
Thanksgiving and beach vacations and picnics and Tuesdays. It’s
a commercial and it’s
a song. It’s a show you would have liked.
It’s a sceintific article and a law passed and a pandemic you’d
have found fascinating. It’s being too often quiet
with my own thoughts. It’s this time of year.
**
The beach was empty, but for we two,
the blue sky noisy with gulls and the sea rushing, and you
vanishing somewhere between.
Peekaboo. I see you. Like when you
were little, your naughty grin full of snips and snails and
puppy-dog tails; your blue eyes more like violets
than the sky.
Modesty Is For Suckers 