The Poetry Of..
Henri Dumolet............................................................
The Memory of Desire
Also there were those other years
When morning was a winter blackness
After those nights of loving and champagne
And music we should have never heard together
Until the day the tulip broke
As I had said it would
When we were ended
And she came to me only in the shadows
In private moments when I should have been alone
Or totally with people who did not know
That she existed. That she was with me.
That I listened to the changing of the tides.
Far Away
In a long ago city far away
A woman leaned forward and kissed me
While we were listening to the jazz
It was the first kiss that Eve gave to Adam
The morning in Eden when they invented love
Before they knew what was to come to them
While they listened to the music of the world.
Hallways
It is not necessary now
To pass her silently in long halls.
And otherwise underscore
That we are separate
We are not one thing
We are singular.
This was what was done
When we were each other.
Not, within our glances, separate.
But constrained. Covert. Dissembling.
Happy and passionate unseen.
Now we are now what we were pretending,
Separate. We greet pleasantly.
In the empty halls and sometimes
Can be seen amiably chatting.
While I dream of when we
Would ignore each other in the hall
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