Lines

[Hollweg]

The days of their life together
Compressed into a form denser, harder,
More beautiful than the chalky lightness of their youth,
A map that shows which mound covers the old site,
He saw these things on his wife’s face.

The frustration at taking this trip alone,
There are only so many trips—they are numbered,
Fantasy destinations, fantasy fits
Of ecstasy following all night fights,
He saw these things on his wife’s face
As he drove to the airport.

The collision that created the moon,
Slow drift of the Continent,
The ruin at Montaillou,
A blend of rouge and noir,
He saw these things on his wife’s face
As she peered over her glasses
To give him a goodbye kiss.

[WIREMAN]

hauntingly beautiful.......

[dadio]

Very good poem & theme.

[Arcadia]

ahh... despedidas...! so beautiful & sad altogether, gracias Hollweg!

[saw]

the lines in her face, like the lines of your poetry tell a complex story...one that hints to much more ......behind those glasses......great writing...

[Perdida]

Lines are like a highway systems, if one looks closely, they can take you to many places and tell great stories....just like you did.

really enjoyed Hollweg