A look, so intense, so full, I hadn’t seen in more than 20 years.
Brown eyes focused –
Mouth slightly open –
Staring into the tall historian’s eyes.
Black clouds thick in night,
St. John river rich below.
Canada to the east.
Maine we’re in,
North American history and her and him.
Another look –
Face wide, smiling,
A phone call from a lover of more than 30 years.
She rushes to tell me.
Personal history and her and him.
I cut red whte yellow orange roses,
Carry them to her,
Blue wildflowers, too.
I later bring white sweet jasmine to her face on the pillow.
I bring coffee to her bedside.
Not the look the historian received,
Not the smile that trailed the lover’s call.
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, early October 2014