Recurring Dream 101

Recurring Dream 101

I ask
the dream again—
where did I lose her?

Was it in the gestures of departure
creased with our knowings?—

The red scarf she removes 
before our boarding—
just after the breeze passes through us—
a quick and unspoken thing-
that doesn't linger—
the scarf she folds precisely, carefully
and places inside her blue windbreaker pocket
lined with the warmth
that shields her 
from all the histories that taught her to fold herself small.

Was it
in that relic of passage
and unfolding promises—
the boarding pass 
pressed close to her chest—
not for safekeeping,
but to keep what remains
from the askers, questioners.—

There are no answers,
only witness-
as she moves 
through her usual rituals—

checking the printed cabin number
twice—

tucking the phone charger
into the side pocket of her purse—
preparing herself 
for the familiar dark call
that will come.—  

Then,
her fingers
resting on the brass rail-
that last memory altar-
before the gangway
receives her—
us.

She never speaks,
only nods, 
as we 
pull away
and the sea swallows
the ship— 
us—
in another—
silent voyage.

I interrogate,
again—

the hush
between her gestures—

the smoothing of the bedspread—

her stillness at the porthole—

each motion
a sentence to parse—
something—
I am failing  to read.

She walks ahead,
always ahead—

her coat
draped over her arm—

her steps—
carving prayer—
into each corridor.

And I
am always
watching—

too late,

her movements—
a scripture

I forget 
to memorize.