Witness

Written in glass-soaked lust, a girlfriend

Described with pride and in stride, her boyfriend:

How he changed the brake pads, built a swing

From the old oak with a heart,

How his mission and multitude always pulled

From seas of confidence, steadfast in their winds;

And my heart screams, "I could, too, if only a chance!"

"Maybe I could, too…" as scream morphs to whisper,

For a lack of a listener, a failing of fitness,

There remains no witness.

 

All that I've built with my hands is the same

As the crash in the forest that no one heard;

And when I go to my long home, will the fallen timbre

Tell a story to dry passersby and the lustrous

Rainwater gypsies—"What happened here?" they will say,

"Not much, I suppose. I'll continue on my way."

There is no consolation gift, no pittance

For one without a witness.

 

I've dreamed, and loved, and failed;

And ten thousand failures and a handful

Of raptures, and failure to derail

Until time squeezed juice still tart

From what Nature declared was past its time;

I poured a cold glass with love and lime,

Mortared the workdays, savoured the sublime,

And rested in oubliettes of outer space.

 

And I desired a witness for my penance,

For my remembrance, and my sentence—

Like sweet water dives from moss-scented rock,

On Tuesday let me fall to the lagoon,

Collapse in the dew of a flower,

Pour bourbon over my nose and drown.

I will smile out loud at the river Styx,

Beat Charon at cards, and tour the town.

 

***

 

I craved a lover with amber essence,

Not acquiescent, but roaring with fire

In her tesseract mind. And she builds,

And solders, and smolders, and lives with

Fury that makes the crowd exhale: "Goddamn."

And she’ll testify when I die, "I did witness.

He changed the brake pads, and so did I.

We were a team; we washed with pumice,

And made cherry pie, and for my life,

He also testified...that I am fierce."

 

So shall the Puck pull at his lashes

At last, before moon fever and winter fast

To confess he sprinkled just a little bit

Of fairy mojo on us. He'll walk his way

With a smile, and say "He was cautious, but wild.

But also lucky I came along, because he couldn't

Hold a tune, write a song, touch her heart

Without my assistance; the forest is my witness."

 

And with that vision of derision,

I'll take my medicine, sleep another hour,

Before a silent blanket overtakes me with the workday,

Where I'll dream of streams and gorges and sunlight

Beyond the time when I last atoned, and a question,

Unanswered: "Will I find a witness?

Or will I die alone…when nurses forget 

Their own footsteps? Will I die in a room that's cold?"

 

I'd rather be ripped by a lion under clouds;

I'll take the fear and burning bright of day;

I'd rather bleed and paint the soil red

With my face ablaze under noon pool sky

Than lie in that bed alone as nurses walk by

(Walk to and fro as Daniel said), lost in duty

Amid waves of cosmic rays and galactic song,

As I decay witness-less until all is gone.