Purging Old Flames

Like razing my hair to the nape of my neck, I’m letting this one go. I suppose old scribblings have the right to see the light, imperfect though they may be.


This was your soil, you fell in love,
And forged your name, kept me from reach,
While I wandered a silent beach
Beneath the stars and dreamt your name.

What moved you, her poetic wiles?
Did you touch her? Pearl skin on teak,
Let her see your knees grow weak,
Hold loft your torch with leaping flame?

My fingers sought, found shells to bring
Home, bivalves, mollucs, scallops-ridged,
But distance cannot be abridged
And on the plane they came apart

I closed my heart. You loved sans guilt,
Sought comfort in her false, faint glow,
Bade past infatuation flow.

I kept faith every rise of dark.
Was I to forgive and forget,
To lie again beneath your heel?
Not I, I whet my hate of steel,
Pretending gladness while I pine.

And play your love notes in my head,
Your rapture in her serenade,
One question, all I ask: What made
Your country so unique from mine?