Engaged
By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo
AT night, in the dead of the night,
you are alive, a living dead
haunting, ripping the edges
of my wounded heart
I chase away, again
bits and pieces of remembrance
of the way you smell, feel, taste
like a genie, you rise, in the bottle of madness
knowing my desire to resurrect you, like Lazarus
from a coma or a comma
your non-present presence intrudes
every day, every waking moment
even when I cut, the way I cut
the branches of trees to a shape
I desire, or arrange flowers
in vases where, I can see, in a different way
or the way I resurrect trees
after the winds have ravaged their limbs
In the dark, I count from one to a hundred
to bury you in the pillows
and cover my eyes with the darkest masks
to force myself to sleep, the way I always do
on flights where the plane cruises through turbulent skies
I awake, unlearning every little detail
of your soft, nimble hands
writing your mellow melodies on my skin
in a language only understood
by birds as they groom a mate, showing off
colors, twirling feathers in their beak
offering gifts of sticks, strips of plastic
in a courtship dance
like boats impose themselves to the sea
I impose my sorrows digging the earth,
to bury you, for you not to grow
for the sorrow to grow, instead, as a tree
and for you to stay in the soil
degrading, eventually swirling
in the atmosphere, rising with the vapor
carried by a strong wind to a desert
very, very far away
show me, show me a sign
carve it on the face of the moon
a word, an image, a whisper
send me three letters, a symbol
engraved on a ring
tell me, what do I do with the ring?
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