Sometimes

For Rose Marie

Sometimes I dream you,
when the light has died
and the stars reach their tiny fingers
to touch and join us
in our slumbering,
your face comes to haunt me.

Sometimes I remember you,
soft and lithe,
fallen into my embrace,
the salt of tears upon your lips
Breathing the short, quick gasps
which follow Weeping's walk
through your heart.

Sometimes I hate you
For what I've done to me.

Sometimes I hear you,
The youthful notes of your laughter
echoing in the space in my heart,
The sweaty murmurs of your embraces,
whispering their sweetness
to the memory of my arms
And the bitter shouts of our parting.

Sometimes I see you,
from the edges of my eyes,
Your hair pirhouetting in the wind,
following me,
Your small hands in the soft places
where my mind meets my sight
beckoning me
And your eyes, your infinite eyes,
Haunting me.

James T. Hsiao