My Last Goodbye
A straight finger
she wipes dust from
a golden plate – a white
gown, white gloves –
men stand tall escorting
all those whom they love
she floats past
stained glass windows,
she floats past
women in gowns, pearls,
and small veils –
in her eyes
spider webs of silk,
a gown a dusty shade of pink.
She watches – as a line of
men turn their backs from
a golden rail. Ignoring a
golden plate, once where
rings of time were placed.
Once she talked of
power like a deck of
cards – turned one by one
as days of time spliced
a sliver of light cutting
through fog – her veil
tossed by the wind.
Her arms tightly hug him,
she reaches up, from the floor
high enough to reach his
lips –
She glares into the light –
moonshine flickers off
a silk wedding gown,
diamonds on another
sparkle on dark walls –
Her finger straight as
she reaches out to touch
his shoulder –
blows air onto his neck.
If only I could plunge upon him,
surrender to him – tumble
as water falls over rocks,
slowly, she understands
defeat – her destination
now a retreat through a
brighter light where she
waves goodbye wearing
satin; she brings the
golden plate.