A Final Gesture / Solitary by Michael L. Newell

A Final Gesture

Through the calm waters of a May night,

memories drift and beckon.

 

Standing in a field newly plowed

and sown with the promise of tomatoes,

 

I recall your face eighteen years ago:

steeped in shadows shifting

 

in a warm spring wind

that lifted your hair

 

and brushed it lightly

across your cheeks.

 

I reach carefully through the vines

of time to touch your shoulder

 

one last time, to say the goodbye

never properly uttered.

 

When I pull my hand back,

the fingertips are missing.

 

A mist seeps

across the fields

 

and beyond the hill a dog howls

once, then is silent.

 

                       Khilda, Amman, Jordan, 1993

 

 

Solitary

 

In body wrinkled

as ripped blue nightgown

tightly held, tightly

bound round her,

she rises from decay

of her bed, retreats

to living room to play

three a.m. solitaire

because sleep has become

scarce as years left her.

Michael L. Newell lives in a small town in Florida. His most recent book of poetry, STILL THE WORLD BECKONS, was published two weeks ago. It is available from Amazon and Cyberwit.net.