She could make herself invisible

could stand beside his giant fame

and merge with the wishes of all the people

who wished she wasn’t there

She could bury herself in sunlight

could pick green tomatoes

her heart bruised with longing

and neatly fold a smile

into the truth about despair

I used to try to hold her

on snowy nights when he was

somewhere making movies

I’d take her in my arms and promise

not to speak too loud or walk too hard

or wish too deep for what was never really there

And she would soothe my promises

with patience

even in the face of cruelty

and swear no matter what it took

she would never disappear

But one day, in the chaos of failure

she was swept into a windstorm

and as I beat my brain

against the broken bottom of neverending love

she grew thinner than the uppermost particle of air

Now, today, she is lost to me

not even an echo in bending bones

and I am left – a mourner at my funeral

while she travels in spirit space

waiting for the bread to rise

in someone else’s home