–Robert Bridges

I did not know if she was there
I did not know
I could not imagine it true
Even after a cigarette or two
I did not know

Lie in the sheets that us entwine
Lift a hand, let it fall
Reach for something, for nothing
But glance at the time
Sip from the glass of wine
Beside the bed,
The round ebony table
Did you imprint its rim,
With lipstick red?
I was not able,
to know
Those lips once kissed
Tonight?
I did not know

I did not know if she was there
I did not know
Before, on my chest I've felt her hair
Curled fingers entwined in mine

But I could not decipher
Her nostomanic perfume
From the soft bloom of spring air

She was, as if a photograph, a dent,
Lingering in the bed from time spent
A flashing apparition discontent
Crying out some cruel lament
I did not know

I did not know
If capricious time
Left to you here, to wonder, wander
Acorporal?

Is merely your bare image
burned into my retina of order
and scene
I did not know

She flickered as if projected on screen? sheet
White and taught, stretched and neat
Reflecting memories? incomplete
But I could not recall
I did not know
If she was there?

I did not know
Or from the grave, as Alcestis, Admetus? Queen
Cruel.. Waking.. Walking.. Dream
Which more sooth than lie did seem

And how may one refrain
from such a vividly painful Madeleine?

When morning sun on shutters clatter
Will she fade like voices chatter?
The patter of soft feet across the floor
Those of the purring puss, or infants? coo
In vanity must we be heard once more?
What does it matter?
Mais, rien de plus!
Now I am alone, nothing more
Oui, mais rien de plus!
Nothing more

–C. S. Leaf

© 2008

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jbf@fergus.com
Revised 5/15/2008