MARIE
             ___

The gate to the pathway of the dead
stands before me like heartless steel.
Friable boxes of wood imprison withered
remains of souls - souls who molded antiquity
into the memory of the living. Pillars
of stone etchings echo muffled sounds of
a bustling city - a city alive from the past.
Failure! Failure! this field, as an abode
of the dead, 'tis but a grieving pasture
of the living! My wintry ears strain to
capture the timbre of my lost Marie -
yet nothing ! - yet nothing! - less the tapping of
my cane in the endless quest of Marie.
"Marie" - "Marie" - have you left me to join
the melodies of this foreboding field of pain?
Have you left me to chase images who
cast no shadow? those wisps of hollowness
of your youth who tattered your soul?
Why no farewell? - Why no final kiss from
your savory lips of lilac and bitter?
My heart was able to endure the pain
of your leaving, yet given your manner I find
my soul possessive of void. Come forth Marie -
come forth and stroke the gray of my head.
Place you lips to mine and whisper "good-bye",
that in peace I may join the melodies of
your city.

Barnum Taylor © 1998