Your Absent Face

In Memory of Kathleen Raine When I stretched out my right hand to touch your face, mysteriously present, I felt only air and it parted and disappeared, only an emptiness left behind where I expected the warmth of your skin, the vital response of your quickening breath, the depth of your eyes, holding both astonishment and contentment in a perfect balance. But something of you abides, some trace of your beauty mingles with natural beauty and creates a abundance that sweetens the air with promises of more delights to come, never-ending because never grasped and squandered. Oh, I know this truth! But my heart is still restless for a simple touch, a caress of flesh and flesh, the reassurance that all does not dissolve into air, but something persists: a falling leaf, a splash of water, a tender voice speaking what must be said over and over, the longed-for touch.