After The Fall

 

Lover, your absence has turned as hard as a rock,

wedged in the silt bed of the river beyond the waterfall.

Years of erosion, each side smoothed by the flow

have shaped your silence. The ripples you create

are held under and quickly swirl unseen into the rush,

 

they are voiceless, never to reach the mouth

where the open sea spreads out in oblivion,

reflecting hues of blue as me and the sky above.

Grasp as we may, flowers that overhang the banks

cannot be held, our beauty has been lost;

 

vision is translucent, eyes water-blurred.

Another must now see it, the laurel of vine root, twisted

to a crown of flowerets, a blossom of pearls aglow in the sunshine.

Our memory is upstream in that time of meander,

ever calming curves, soft as your skin.

 

Days were shaded in comfort by the leaves that flutter

on the branches of trees; the rise of pillars that surrounded us.

Nights were taken right to the edge, held above the waterfall

in anticipation, then pulled over in descent, long powerful fingers

 

thrusting down to the core to finally reach the turbulent climax.

Senses intermingle, when hard and wet, smooth and rippled

meet in an instant to create the depth of sound that echoes

throughout the forest, as the dropped waters cascade in a wash

 

of foam and tear shaped reverberations. Finally calm comes,

as gravity was forced upon us. It all has settled, trickled to the place

just beyond any hope of ascent; the place where things dwell uneasy,

rock hard, trapped in mud, where darkness seems like death.

 

 

 

 

R Jay Slais’ most recent or forthcoming publications include poems at Barnwood, Every Day Poets, Flutter Poetry Journal,  MiPOesias, Neon, The Orange Room Review, Sub Lit, and tinfoildresses.  A single father raising his two children, he makes a living as an engineer/inventor in Metro Detroit Michigan. Visit his blog at http://calderhawke.blogspot.com/