The hour-glass minutes decades flowing fast
sand in my eyes that weep, the grit that tears
crystallize round, those pearls that were my years
sea-changing all I see. I don’t know it’s the last
word she will say in love, last time I’ll taste
that dark fruit cake studded with marzipan.
Only that words fled, taste is ash. I can
hold fragments here. Most fall and crash to waste.
My arms are full, stuffed bags of memory
menus receipts. We ate in that Chinese
pork balls with chive and ginger. And her keys
open no door now. She’s gone. I can see
her photo. Salt sweet musk taste of her face
pale shadow dust time death left in her place