into the hot heart of the evening’s hiss
not looking back for the promised bliss
nor caring much
for things you’d miss
if you ran where the sea could take you, summery
wash clean the leaden lie you’d lived?
what if you got your courage up at last?
raised it like a colorful flag
went dashing towards an unknown grove
among the olives there, you’d rove
brightly clothed in strumming hues
if you ran from the icy grip of death
whose saturnian fingers strangled hope
and crushed your spirit every morn
with measured spoons of emptiness
if you loosed the guise of this control
what if you ran into a world of yes?
instead of no, at every turn?
what if there was a graceful way to say goodbye?
to all the things transpired, unfair
the things he squelched in you at every yearning?
his bitter face of mean regret
his icy eyes and clouded rings
what if you ran and could open a window, sighing?
the clean pure air of the future, flying
wings sprouting at your silver sandals as you fled?
what if you scrubbed your history clean
like the moon’s young wantings, waxing
if you eliminated all things taxing?
that he never really loved you is the hardest to bear
after you’d given your time, your years, your care
in Saturn’s deadly realm
the years you gave away your helm
your world of painted prisms remains
your world of words in soft-tongued whirls
your hatted embrace, your sea-washed pearls
all things he coveted once, remain of you
and always will
you never wished ill
on any human thing, nor any man
even he, who’d trapped you with a ring
(your mother’s voice in soft refrain says not to let that happen again)