Gingerly – James Whitley

Should there remain a day
beyond this attenuated night —
which, to me, seems like

some dark final statement —
I think I would like to see it, and
to begin, again, collecting

memories of the large bright door
swinging open suddenly,
of budding asters —

all gala and promise —
gathered
for spontaneous presentation.

Despite the several
meanderings this faulty compass
may have me endure,

I believe
I would like to walk the worn
path again, next time,

perhaps, taking more
chary steps under the moon’s
watchful pale blue eye.

So now, to this end, I pray
nightly to the beneficent god of
healing-completely-after-perfidy,

laying all my meager hopes
the sweet angel of
letting-go-and-moving-on-already.