The Reflection Pool

Let Me Go

I once begged for that.
A puddle on the floor in
the summer heat, I’d beg
for a release.
Undone.

Months came. Months left.
Still, it’s present. Draped on my
shoulders, a weightless load
that feeds this cynical nature
that is now me. The pressure
of gravity and the pull of
distance cause a levitation and
I’m clumsy in this gift.

I ceased begging. It did no good.
Even though you are not here, you
are here, more than a ghost but
less than a hope.
A confusion

born in breath and blood. A brush
of skin, a scent of hair bring a
moment’s respite, easing of
the weight, the cloak of you.
Don’t, don’t let me go,

don’t.