the monsters of me
that might have been, under different stars.
How heavy and foreign, how bizarre,
the clunky telephone and the safety glass.
What to say to the hardened, lined face on the other side?
Taken further, what about the locked ward,
what about the chilling disturb of the rolling lawn
with its markers and dates?
Then again, maybe Goddess spared enough angels
to save the other me, too.
Maybe the bars, the taverns, the prisons, the asylums,
and yes, the graveyards, had to do without me there, too.
What if, on that different Earth where the same sun seems to rise,
and where coffee brews the same, warming the hands, the body, the soul,
I should find something even harder to see?
What if there were a white-painted porch in early daylight,
a soft gray throw, and a pair of dogs at my feet on the painted boards?
What if a face as familiar as my favorite poem appeared...
what if she had lips for mine,
her body close and known?
What if I had her close at hand, there, in that other life?
What if, looking on, I didn't even know her name?
What if, having seen, I had to go back?
if that might be the hardest of all to bear.
for Fireblossom Friday at Real Toads