In the drift of autumn distances
leaves sail their own Pacific
toward a blue midway
air-matrix. Somewhere East
of Henry’s passionate history
(mercurial Möbius strip
or Klein bottle – just flip
one M to W). Love’s mystery
refracts – deflected by the rage
for mastery, an infant
flummoxed by ambivalent
shrugs... until the splintered stage
is suddenly quiet, spooky as old age.
& so he takes Path P
(which intersects roughly
at X) to make a mirror-image
of her wounded face – the child
she was, and is, always
(beneath time-tears, nail-
scars... Hen’s self-betrayals, chilled
on wheels). Meanwhile, in soft Atlantic
Delft, deft delvers deal
a double-diamond parallel –
quick Jackie-Joanie seesaw flick
like Leo flipped a Lei by
Oahu Gal in Galilee.
Sol sighs, it’s only Me.
Love’s integral resolves in sky.
Gazebo at Swan Point Cemetery, Providence