Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Jennifer is Blue Water

You were blue water, Pacific deep yet 
clear.  You turned the typhoon world azure and
my sight grew calm because of you.  Between
dawn and sleep, you kept the noise of business
deep blue jazz.  Alone was death; you were life,
afloat on a sea transparent with love.

Our first minute past the knifing of love,
when I spoke that word at you, we held, yet
my thoughts stared at your eyes.  Blue eyes, iris and
lash, blue planets that imagined between
us the future.  We dived deep, the business
of arranging our furniture for life.

Then two islands of separation.  Life
stopped, as did our heart beats, our breaths, while love
swept the seas with its winds.  We wept salt, yet
four months without blue sight we loved surge and
current the more.  With half Earth's curve between
us, we talked and typed, a season's business

forgotten in our throe.  Daily business,
ho hum, and civil war.  While bombs took life
in Macedonia, I walked in love
down death streets of Skopje.  Percussion, yet
I pictured your oceanic eyes, and
willed you flown to destroy the distance between.

Amsterdam!  Your red spilling hair.  Between
us waves of white skin.  For two months business
delayed while we knew the planet, learning life
might be a Ferris wheel in Paris; love
might be a beggar in New Delhi. Yet
even Earth--Mt. Everest--proved music and

lighting behind your mind.  On a lake and
one knee, gasping with my divorce, between
"Will you," and "marry me?" I thought, Business
be drowned.  Jennifer has touched me to life.
On that white marble palace built for love
by a maharajah, you saved me yet.

"Will I!" you gasped, and at sunset business
became tides between husband and wife, life
a blue sea, soft yet powerful as love.


David Flynn

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