aneurysm and stroke.
The Uncertain Sky
An Elegy for Donna
As I draw a single line through your name
in my address book, not too dark, so I can read
the letters, not too dark, as if by writing lightly,
you might somehow return,
as I watch the pencil cut letter by letter
through your name, I burst out crying.
I am a flood of tears; I wail and howl.
Though I haven't seen you for months,
almost years, I can't believe you are gone.
For those who saw you daily, who laughed
at your jokes and stories, who felt the warmth
and sweet smell of your skin, how merciless
the morning clouds. I haven't forgotten you.
Even after senility and death, you will be with me.
Outside, the last faded leaves cling to the uppermost
branches. I wipe my eyes and stare
into the uncertain sky. One leaf
detaches, and floats, this way and that,
lifted, then dashed by a breeze, as our hopes
were dashed, lifted and crushed after your stroke.
A momentary shaft of sun lights the last yellow
and gold leaf and together, they vanish.
Mary Stebbins Taitt