ROSALIE                     8-8-85

I think to myself about
Memories stored in a lock
Of hair
Kept on the dresser top
Visible and plain.

It will remain in place
For today is the now
Which must be fought with/

And of the person from whom
It came
There is nothing left
But keepsakes and memories
To cling to when
Sorrow becomes too much.


She's gone/she's gone
Only the form of the void remains.

An empty bed.
Dolls on shelves
Awaiting an uncertain future
Pictures of better,
More robust, and vibrant days.


Why did she do it?
An overdose, clear and simple.

The note said everything and
Nothing
Enough to keep me speculating,
Not enough for me to know.


My sense of fear keeps recurring,
Although there is nothing to fear.

She is beyond fear,

But of the legacy, the fear is mine.
It's too soon, I say to be
Objective about this reality.

But what Is reality
After the fact?

A lost love.
Guilt about not being kinder
When I could have been.


Fallen rose petals.


Prayers to a panorama of Gods
To ask for a reason
That I can believe.