“Elaine” by Jack Kimball

I think it’s only you and I
who know
the process of where you
put me.
I see how deliberate you are. 
It’s like you have me and then
place me just out of sight.
Like it’s our secret.
 
Those others tell you to get rid of me
but I know you won’t. 
You hide me over and
I merge with the
purples and blues.
The violets, my favorite.

You’re right by the way. 
There is no need
to paint cigarettes and coffee cups. 
Those are the things I held
after losing the things I couldn’t.
 
When you were just a baby,
I held you warm to my breast.
You had silken hair, pearl skin,
and you smelled of talcum powder.
That’s when I told you about white roses.
Later I held your hand
and we walked together.
I pointed out the graveyard angels. 
And yes.  There really are angels.

Losing you was like running in dark water
with you just out of site.
I screamed to go faster. To get nearer.
To break through.
The harder I pushed the more
the current slowed me down.
But the water’s too thick
and the light was fading.
I tried though. I want you to know that.