The Moya View

The Forgetting

a black cowl is over her

deliberately shuttered

in an unlit windowless room

so when I open my eyes

she is invisible,

a lemon whiff

peeling away,

a piano c note

on a whole beat

struck three times,

to tingle skin,

ping the tuning ear,

enough to know-now-ow-w

the first great rain of her,

the steps to her

now a thousand

clear receding lights

causing blinks

needing their

very own cowls,

leaving her-er-r

r last lost space





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