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GRIFFIN EPSTEIN

for Richard 

 

Were you getting angrier 

and angrier, well past the brink, 

knee-deep in catastrophe?

Tell the doctor

exactly 

how you felt 

fighting grammar 

as it broke open in your hands. 

Here. Sit here. In 

dream every jealous 

ex-lover pats the couch, keen-

eyed, then dissembles into light: 

light that impels itself through matter,

light that lingers like rain. Notice 

the rain. It never stops. Or,

it stops but you won’t stay long enough to see. Pity. 

How many quivering 

images, how many Rorschach 

days with you will I remember? We talked straight

through the night, ten 

hours, more, before you unsealed  

the power always hidden in your voice. 

I would have loved you still with

such precision, like an x-ray 

slicing through flesh, had you 

not unzipped 

from your life 

like a sleeping bag 

leaving naked space behind.