A Postcard From My Love, Lost In Cathay

A Postcard From My Love, Lost In Cathay 

It has been so long since I heard your voice,

since I felt your guiding hand on the back

of mine. All I have is a perfumed card

you posted from Cathay; lines of faded

pastel ink that loop in clouded contrails.

“My dearest Lily, the cherry blossom

blooms as wild and fair as your morning hair.”

I wanted to join you when the spring rains

were falling, when the cranes were building nests

between the reeds. You sent a photograph

of neon night, of glass exteriors

glimpsed through the window of a bullet train.

“I wish the leaves in sunlight shone the green

of your eyes, in vain. All my love, Loraine.”