In a pulse
In the way
my heart quickens
in a pang,
in a desperate left-turn sidestep
whirling girligan
hula crazy
absence
what are you finding?
Behind your couch,
in candles blown out
I am finding pieces of you
wrapped up in old socks
held together
with mangy hair-ties,
in between a particle of dust
and a dead fly’s abandoned leg
you are there
or more, what you were
and what you passed to me -
with a sense of martyrdom & legacy
- is becoming slowly my self-awareness,
my left-turn right-march
falling on the floor
jump up dedication,
my strive
and drive
and yes,
In a pulse
In the way my heart quickens
I hear what you taught me
and can no longer uphold,
urging
me onwards
and up.
November ‘07