" Valedictory"
What will I tell the assembled
about invisibility? I stand before them,
opaque, marvelous in academic dress,
prepared for contingencies, emergencies,
even confrontation. I am armored
with credentials. Not transparent.
I.
The good boy (he) is eternally confused.
Sent to the store on some urgent
errand, he returns, trophy in hand,
to find her in tears, the room
darkened, something secret is
dreadfully wrong. In their small
world of cause and effect, he's
sure of his guilt, may require
a lifetime to get specific.
II.
When did she stop leaving the house?
When did the gathering of housewives
on the front porch begin, when
did it end? When did the teacher come
to see her about the boy? Why
did she cling to him with no hope?
He failed to save her, the house grew
darker, there were no happy days.
III.
There is loneliness so profound,
loss so tightly woven, fear
pervasive and natural, the color
of unbleached fiber: erosion
of purpose; perhaps the end of love.
He imagines a twin sister who died in utero
and with her, his mother's hope.
IV.
Or perhaps this life is a chemical
roller coaster: her wit, her laughter,
her sparkling eyes at the top
of the hill, the plunge exciting,
the bottom tolerable only because
of anticipated resurgence. By the time
I knew her at the undersea plateau,
her late-life child who promised
delight was in hiding.
The shadow's shape changes with light,
yet even at noon, even in desert sun,
even in flight high above the clouds,
no escape. Her life is burned in mine.
I am her shadow.
© 2002 Charles Levenstein
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