Angles

I spoke to him from across the pool--
Said it was beginning to rain
And to get dark, and would he mind taking in the chairs?
(At all angles this is a pool,
An immense body of water to be sure).
He yelled back at me but his words
Were muffled somehow; they echoed,
Bouncing off the water; he was gone.
Or was it the dark that swallowed him?
(We are not really here, it is our spirits
That call to one another from across the water).

I look across the dark
And see the pillars in the distance
Framing the water from the night--
Reflected in the pool of stillness
Like subconsciousness undisturbed.
(I don't like the night disturbed
By light and the reflections).
He does not return soon.
I have decided to leave the chairs be.
Why disturb the stillness,
Why break the glass, why fight?
(It is our bodies that hate to be alone, untouched,
And our spirits that feel the emptiness
Of lives lived in the dark or on the surface).

Alone on the beach
I possess the sun and sand.
Chairs skewed about at all angles,
Like my life at present.
(I can still see his face--
Body outlined in the twilight).
Here plays the scene of solitude--
This is my beach.
Other inhabitants have scattered,
Warmth is far from reach.
(They were afraid of my grief and my despair).
In memory the pool's steps now
Seem so inviting, why did I wait so long
To be baptized into depth?
The suggestion that he made
The night he left.
(I am afraid of drowning in my own pool).
It is as he said once,
Predicted really--I have drowned
In the midst of marble beauty
All around--cool grace,
Forbidding yet inviting to the touch.

Here on this beach, the sky beyond,
A vista on which to set new sights.
Left him behind and moved onward.
(I never see him but his back is turned to me).
I could have really drowned,
Not knowing how to swim--
I prefer the chairs myself,
Poolside.


copyright PM De Angelis
from Parables and Voices