The Tunnel in Ruben’s Yard

A vortex of trees the corbelled sky and wind
ghosts arriving
From your guitar
I hold myself still
Hold my brain
watch your fingers intently
Think of
Quiescence deafferecence
Memories cascade calescing in the rhythm
Of your hair that arcs over the guitar
You look down at the strings as you sing
About a tear that you cannot possibly see
About cracks in the rock
Through which my dead lover floats
On dreamy theta waves and slow alphas
Mingling in the hemispheric pool of beautiful gamma
He sways there and I love you
For bringing him

and for telling me: He is the tear that falls from your eye.

MIRI