In the gaze of the other

"My mistress' eyes are nothing…"

Will to Forgive

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You just bombarded my world, shattered my sheltered piece,

unexpectedly patronizing the safe haven of an employing

menial job away from my usual world of impotent pledges,

places that belonged to another life, another me, and you say,

“Hey, I remember you. I saw you there…from the court”
 

Memorizing the cold inside smile like a lightbulb flash, burnt in air,


scalding the fingernail of an infant size will to forgive.
 

Just pop me back there why don’t you? I’m long sprung now–

for over a year and minding my business, picking up the pieces,

and here you go dragging my ass backwards, sliding me down

there in the dankness and graveyard dreams, the hole of holes.
 

I could hear my heartbeat in my eyes but somewhere receding


like a mote under the metal mattress of my will to forgive.
 

I know you were reprieve, a nice girl, honestly asking, earnest,

wanting to be what I was, aspiring while I was spiraling down,

you upward with your youth, all possibility ahead, to recover, 

re-coup, pop yourself up from a crack-split of a morning that 

caused you to fall, while I was on the downslide, much older

career-weary and worry of the world, on my way out of it.
 

Crushing reason pounded my back and sides of a silhouette stare


piercing the baton flesh of your powerful thump on my will to forgive.
 

But I too have regained my step some and gathered my thin-self.

Only you jarred me out of pretending nothing is or ever was wrong

and “I will forge ahead,” make it like it never happened, reinvent 

myself, my life, and call it a new beginning replete with hope.
 

To the place where I first met you and left you in half smiles


on the sooty bench of ash, our smoldering embers of I will forgive.
 

Until you walked into my store, my place of candy cave-shelter 

to kick me in the flashback and remind me that I am still in it.

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