Memorial

(for M. Clifton and others—8 years, one moment)

This morning headlines fell behind stone-faced words declaring yet another crime
but one phrase pounded through my eyes—written cold as fiction
dulled by lines we have read all the time.

This time my eyes fall out of step and wander to the window stare out in the rain
where newspaper corpses bleed out in the street
the story of another dead young girl, and echoes of her pain, only echoes of her pain.

I say goodbye to your name in the same breath as I have said hello.
Your life will be anonymous and so it is a shame that your death is one thing
everyone will know.

I walk the tightrope of the sidewalk to the streetlight to the park
and read the hedgerows and the trees for signs of life
I cast your name into the water it gets swallowed in the dark
and I hear what must have been your laughter, exploding as a sunburst of glaring light…
as a sunburst of glaring light…

Copyright Tracy S. Feldman, All rights reserved