so many flourishes in that signature
the heart dotting the i in her name
an internalized affectation
left over from high school
that fit a name made mostly of vowels
those round sounds so perfectly pearled together
& softer than my hissing consonants
I saved them, those letters she wrote
in the back of her notebook;
love letters promising everything,
but written in her voice
I never knew until after she died
she was so hungry for it once
she manufactured love on paper
to fill the hollowed-out center
of her chest
you can’t see that seeking shadowing the corners
of her photographs & I don’t hear it in memory,
but it was there. it must have been;
longing that powerful should have darkened
the colors of her voice, as it curled,
sweet & thick around her tongue
but it didn’t
no wonder, when she did finally find
that man, she followed the feeling
with a focus that left him reeling in it
& impossibly empty after she left
he told me once, years later
her love still resonated in a vault
deep behind the solar plexus. an emptiness
he did not know was there
until she filled it
I do not know, and never will
if the force of that feeling
made him write letters too
What an exquisite portrait…exquisite in the literal sense, for it’s beauty also hurts..
oh, Mimi–thank you. I really have not written much about my sister, and I think I might be needing to…
This is so heartfelt and real and powerful Susan…I’d say yeah, I think you do too..hugs, m
That is flippin gorgeous.
Trent–thanks so much…had to do more than just mention those notebooks in passing yesterday 🙂
I like the way you chop and turn around the language in this
very nice capture here. that third stanza is my favorite.
Don, thank you. That was my big sis, though and through
Such a powerful tribute and accounting.
Nelle, thank you.
she filled his emptiness – and even if he did not write it, still he felt her love!
yes. This had to come out, I suppose, when I mentioned those notebooks. Like the comment, lots–thanks for adding your thoughts to the mix 🙂