Nearly Dawn

For Danielle, the love of my life.

I see you there; your head rising 
against my chest, brown tresses 
tantalizing the skin, amethyst eyes 
a million within a million staring at the ruins 
of the universe, watching 
a nameless god climbing the fringes
only for the sake of shouting “I am here.” 

I try to hold resolve, afraid to mislay.
“You blinked,” she said, 
with a lively slap across my arm, she rose. 
Beyond the window carnations bloomed,
the scent of cloves mixing with a puff
of tobacco from a stale cigarette we had shared 
the night before, I joined you for one last hit— 
discarding the ashes out of the portal and onto dry, 
vindictive lanes. Your grin gives way 
to the sounds of Fauré, pausing only to invite me 

to join in the Fantasie, spectral weavings
of trembling metal against the darkening chords, 
like a fading spiral of the moon 
against an earthly night. You seated yourself 
beside me; those amethyst eyes watching 
ivory levers depress and release, 
only to be depressed again, 
a million within a million words spoken 
without declaration. They didn’t need it.
Not in the todays so far 
from all those yesterdays.

Upon the whirling world 
and impaling thrusts of the Ocean 
you rest your head at my shoulder 
for the healing resonation of summer,
transmuting the past harmonized to Chopin—
knowing that the dawn has enfolded the trees
and your tears reside in yesterday.

© 2009 by Mike R. Smale. All rights reserved.