April Morning Walk

So many of those girls I longed for are gone now,

Gone to ash that skin so inexpertly kissed,

Those stomachs I was hot for, gone beyond diaries into flames.

When the years tore up their surface beauty and threw it away

Like the bright wrappings on a parcel

What was left was what links all the breathing world, an empathy,

The buried knowledge of our going.

It’s so easy to forget how the years have poured away

And taken out of sequence and before their time

So many who deserved longer on this lush earth.

Along the streets in which I walked with them

The horse chestnut leaves are opening like Chinese fans.

The dawn’s clear light varnishes houses and gardens

And freezes forever under its glittering surface

So much half-remembered anguish.