STEPHEN
MCGUINNESS
We scaled
a wall
a
monument.
You pulled
me
to the
ramparts
to safety.
I had
frozen
at the top
in fear.
We sat in
a bar
drank beer
you spoke
so
much like
before
questioning,
demanding
more,
quickly
as if time
was short
not to be
wasted.
The street
held
only us
and
your
friends, scattered
in groups,
talking low
nodding,
raising a hand
as we
walked.
Your
family thanked
me for
coming
while you
stood
behind me,
then
at my
side, smiling
with long
hair
to be
pushed
out of
your eyes.
I don't recall
a goodbye.
When I
awoke
you were
still
a long
time dead.
I had to
force
myself to
remember.
For that
moment
when sleep
still
flooded my
mind
I believed
that
we had
spoken
one more
time.
No comments :
Post a Comment