You Go Wheeling Through The Night Air Poem by Matt Denis

For Rosie

I.
They were sweet-sad, I think,
Created by some angel of desperate happiness.
Restless and black, a thousand lonely fragments of light collecting
In a pool of shine at the middle.

II.
God ran his tongue slowly over his bottom lip
And lowered his eyes
That’s what I’d like to think
I’d like to think this was hard for Him.

III.
You didn’t know, did you?
Do you now?

IV.
Imagine death.
Imagine it as a sideways look from
A dozen roses on
The grayest day of the year.
And imagine it now, so there won’t be any
Surprises.

V.
My breath buckled and finished, quivering.
Yours was warm, sweet
Not a fair trade.

VI.
Imagine Heaven.
Imagine it as the first time you saw
Your father cry.
And hold onto that.

VII.
You fixed your gaze on me,
My red eyes, parted lips,
With the stillest eyes I’d ever seen from you.

(Outside, I stood under the canopy for a second, the back of my hand pressed against my lips. It was raining, silent sheets that I couldn’t watch hit the ground. Frozen there, I watched the World emptied of all the things that I couldn’t understand, and never would. And then I walked home.)