Maureen Clark
Before Autumnal Equinox
sitting on the front porch alone
wisteria vines going berserk again
wrapping the side of the house in green
magenta four o ’clocks still flowering
cars take the hill slowly and in the distance
commuter traffic drones like a bagpipe
about to split the air with Amazing Grace
last night’s dreams were filled with you
the Richard from years ago who found
my azurite earring in the sand at the Lantern Festival
the one who smiled showing the gap between his front teeth
talking about books which he always did
this southern light the same as the light on the day last year
when he decided to light himself on fire
light just like this gentle enchanted light oh my friend
fire is the punishment we save for witches and heretics
flame the only thing painful enough to paint hell with
before you lit the match was there even a tiny glow
of late afternoon sun that made you pause for a second
so that maybe you thought about not dying
oh I wish that southern sun had drenched you enough
