Charlotte Gringras

Back in Touch

Stylish writing lands on the mat -

after all this time, I know it is hers.

Creased bits of us flutter down

as I tear at the letter ; faded pieces

settle into a monochrome mosaic

of soulful waves , sea-sickly grins

school ties, undone, twirl in the breeze.

Quaint panama hats nest in our curls;

sunbeams bounce off marble saints,

schoolgirls giggle at bare, male limbs.

Wide-eyed, we gawp at the David

or gorgeous, shiny bronze Giorgio :

his blackolive eyes fell on her flaxen skin,

not on me - tour guide from heaven,

he tore us apart a lifetime ago .

One last photo falls, flipping over:

Rome and Florence, ’57

Uniform to be worn at all times.’

                     copyright © charlotte gringras

                                2010