Lured Asunder

by Shaindel R. Beers-Finley

This isn’t about regret; it’s about how
May’s torrential downpours remind me
of our parting – three years and some odd
weeks ago. The leaving that began with
a letter from a faraway school. You hugged
me in the hall and promised visits, made
yelps of excitement that caused others to
come running to see what was amiss.
But I pushed myself away – did not return
calls, made myself too busy for letters,
and, now, I cannot find you

except in my memory where there are
snapshots of glossy black curls, a proud
aquiline nose, and a smile almost too chiseled
for a woman. Kitchen sounds and scents in
restaurants remind me of our cooking –
mashing hard-boiled eggs and slicing
stuffed olives see-through thin.

Even now when my mother calls or when friends
flip disinterestedly through pictures,
they are stopped by your gaze,
“She’s beautiful” – all whisper, awed.
“Like a movie star,” my mother always adds.
A bittersweetness rises up, drowned by a sigh
I nod, “She was almost Miss Florida”
What I want to say is: “We were lovers
for a year.”