TREASURE TRAIL Poem by Karen Press

How did you know?
I find them now

as I need them:the Neruda volume,

the Zen anthology,
the Horowitz recordings.

You laid a trail quietly
and left, left your warm gown,

left the incense wrapped in thin paper,
the matches in your pocket, still dry.

I remember the saxophone you sold
before I was born.

When I hear it now
I know I'm walking in the right direction.

I look up and see you on the horizon,
walking along it, looking for something.