I wear a gown woven of rose gold and sapphire,
braided of threads stolen from the last rays of sunset
and the azure veil of dawn, a tapestry of open space.
You wear a gray mantel of gauze, an uninhabited landscape
my hand passes through as though it were the wind.
For you I turn the wheel and let the broken pieces of amber
and jade fall around us in our silent dome of glass.
I inscribe the story of our life around my garment’s hem,
the brocade skirt tattooed in chalk, seen in the violet sweep
of waning light, as if the plain fact of us were obvious
and could be read from a distance; our private language
deciphered, written in shades of emerald and pearl.
The pattern forms our missing memories, paints a tableau
as intricate as a geode, a frozen oasis of love and loss.
My eyes resist the vision, fearing you will vanish just as I try
to embroider you upon my blouse, to fold you into the linen
of my skin but all that you were is now a moonbeam on the sea,
a rippled pale reflection, the tide repeating its rise and fall,
washing ashore sea glass and gems that have been here before.
They vow that everything returns, transforms even as the planet
turns to the sunrise and casts its bronze glow on my doorstep.