Lover Gone Away
Another love disappears, ghosts
echo loss, even derision.
The record holder for shortest affairs
I entreat these misalliances, small
Wonders of dreamscape over reality,
bones with no underpinnings to salvage.
Love or friendship slip away, the knot
always too tight or too loose to hold
Him to seasons, and this hearth where
love bolds and binds passion.
How to hold him close again
his feelings less than passionate?
I know this cooling off rattles
our soured relationship.
His departure, maybe preordained,
hugs the winter season, not me.
Snow shies away from ground, flakes
large but porous too damp to stick.
They disappear like him tumbled dry
of emotion, melted where once my tongue
Left flakes, each unique, my gift. Now
this scene thrives on empty –
Singes of farewell strike my tongue.
White clouds, a pop-up box
of tissues, stain blue horizons—
white to pewter, stormy black.
Sly clouds translate
into hail, tornados, thunder.
Weathermen predict these odds.
They interpret content of clouds
like a novel, uncover piles
of once white towels now soiled,
ivory, crème, smudged
suspicions, just cloudy choices
to end this report.
Thanks to Wordsworth–
we weather clouds,
lonely, cumulus, ever
About the Poet
Lee Landau writes with raw honesty and tenderness about interactions in a unique, personal landscape: her relationships with family, their dysfunctional backstories, and the many phases of grief that tumble through her poems and life. She addresses an internal audience of the departed, the dead and dying, and highlights unexpected losses.