escaping

your memory, warrantless now
as I walk backward in the sadness
(I see) (in this ragged night)
your face, lips just parted, three
dimensional in my dream, yet still
rejecting my kisses, still not quite
present, an ephemera, an irish faerie,
your words, sequined in the
lawyer's voice, describing days
perhaps past perhaps imagined

my courage is minor, truly
but some things need to be done
the life that was mine became
a metaphor, perhaps accidentally
it doesn't matter
someone does remember
but this isn't a prison
there can't be justice
no one's singing a requiem
the shadows blink and obscure
things true things, lost
still my hands find the pieces
of your puzzle
not that you yourself
are even interested anymore