Oblivion
I poured a whiskey and soda
watching the tree outside dissolve:
light going backward pushed to corners
to the white sliver of wood
around the door.
Where was that river seething with light?
I recall the banks menaced by wasps
swollen on summer sap, a cement hollow
stuck with their strange cradles
a woozy stench of damp clay
the blunt poison of water snakes.
I do remember someone
close warm flesh pushed to the sand
the ocean a dark noise
echoing gulls and a wail of forlorn love
moonlight like yellowed keys
on his antique piano
music across the water our song
tides pulled awful and endless
as the spine of memory.
The light is lost
my glass is hollow:
the door is luminous
like a firefly at midnight.
Copyright Credit: Rachel Sherwood, "Oblivion" from Mysteries of Afternoon and Evening. Copyright © 1981 by David Trinidad. Reprinted by permission of David Trinidad.
Source: Mysteries of Afternoon and Evening (Sherwood Press/Yarmouth Press, 1981)