poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

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Thursday, October 4, 2007

Taking a Vacation to California at Christmastime

Mike, you found me (you always find me, everywhere)
strolling down a warm street in Santa Barbara
the week after Christmas with my new fiancé.
The street was called MICHAEL TORENA BLVD.
but I read it as a giftname, like a marriage of the words
Michael to Rena. Like my happiness
is a gift from you. I still have
the dream I had the night you decided to leave
your body. There was a fishpond in the front yard, with a lone goldfish
whose one sad eye stayed on us as he circled.
Behind him was the house we had always wanted,
a small house with big windows full of yellow light in the evening.
And I know you remember what happened when I woke
from that dream and found your simple note:

I forgive you.
I love you.
I’m sorry.

Remember how I wanted to die too?
You come in my dreams now, you tell me dying
is like going away on a boat for millions of days.
So pray your self a shipwreck, I say. Maybe you will like building
from nothing, better then you like being lost at sea.
You miss your shoes. You miss your make-up.

My love never ends darling,
your death never stops being true.
You can't take your suicide back,
but letting me go is the least you can do.

(Oh my darling Mike, is it still all pain?)

1 comment:

Michal said...

this one made me cry and ache with love for you