The Day

The day before the day
We had been working
Thinking and working
Discussing and working
Writing and working

The day before the day
I heard and
I stopped

The day before the day
I told you the news
And needed something
A voice, a hug
A comfort in the silence
What you sent was
A text, an electronic-hug
A distance in the silence

The day after the day
I was suffocating in
The memory
Of a familiar but
Foreign woman

A young woman

A woman
Who wore a low-cut
Scarlet dress
With a matching
Silk sash to
Cover the black-lilacs
Freshly blooming
Beneath the
Porcelain skin
Of her neck

A woman
Who donned a simple opaque
White scarf
To cover her pale
Barren scalp

A woman
I was forbidden
To kiss

In the house
Of our parents' parents
She slowly climbed the
Stone spiral steps
Removed her shoes
And entered the green
Terrazzo room
To lay herself upon
White satin
Where the couch used to be
To nap under the
Rich syrup blanket
Of lilies
Chrysanthemums
And cigarette smoke

Napping
While I suffocated
Napping
While I suffocate

The day after the day
You asked for the report
And I said
I was working
On it