for JFH:
Ma doce dame, je vos pri
Ne me metés en obli:
En loing de vos autant m’amez
comme vos de pres fait avez.
—from Thomas’s 12th century Roman de Tristan
Line by line the hawsers drop behind.
The tarred and weathered lines part gently
And ripple in the water very gently.
People drift apart and hardly mind.
Piece by colored piece the paper strings
tense, crisp; then movement snaps the edges cleanly—
Confetti streamer colors melt serenely
in a wide pool of quiet ripple rings.
The lines and paper tumbled in the wake
are lost to sentiment so lightly . . . Soften
the parting blow? What blow, what pain? Too often
we do not even know what leave we take.
But there are those for whom the pull
is more than deftly knotted ropes and streamers.
When friends leave friends, or dreamers part from dreamers,
what paper hopes flutter against the hull?
Shipmasters never like to stop in port
for very long. Our voyage should be starting
in just another minute. Wait—in parting,
I tell you I regret the stay was short.
Leave ship? I couldn’t. If you’d come with me—
but you’ve your own itinerary. Pity
we couldn’t rest together in this city
or quest together the twice lonely sea.
Confetti and the hawsers drop behind,
and, even if our parting is not gentle,
if even one of us is sentimental,
most people drift apart and hardly mind.
English translation of epigraph by J. Kates: “My sweet lady, I beg you / Not to forget me: / Love
me from far away / As you have done when we were close.”
Photograph by Bob Moore
Smoky Quartz 