(in memory of Patricia Lewis Smith, 1953-2005)
Time may absolve us of some things we’ve done,
If only by its vast indifference;
More problematic is the nagging sense
Of possibilities forever gone.
Bright daffodils on February’s lawn
Brim with regrets, for all their innocence—
Arrangements that were never sent. Years hence,
They will loom large as living comes undone:
Soft chalices of golden winter light,
Champagne flutes where the wounded may not drink.
Try as we may, we never get loss right:
It stuns to speechlessness just when we think
The future will be bearable, if not bright;
The heart contracts, once-cherished landscapes shrink.
About Robert Lavett Smith
Born in Michigan in 1957, Robert Lavett Smith grew up in northern New Jersey, in a suburb of New York. Since 1987, he has lived in San Francisco, where for the past thirteen years he has worked as a Special Education Paraprofessional for the San Francisco Unified School District. He holds an M.A. in creative writing from the University of New Hampshire, where he studied with Charles Simic and Mekeel McBride. In 1982, he studied with Galway Kinnell, as a member of the Master Class at the 92nd Street Y in New York City. He is the author of four small-press chapbooks, and most recently, of a full-length collection, Everything Moves With A Disfigured Grace (Alsop Review Press, 2006). All of these are free verse works. A collection of his sonnets, Smoke In Cold Weather, is forthcoming by the Full Court Press.
2 Comments
Beautiful poem. Regrets are something that continually haunt me & this piece captues their exquisite pain.
Thank you, Matthew. This poem is included in a forthcoming book, “Smoke In Cold Weather,” that is about to be published by Full Court Press. Much of the book is concerned with the loss of my wife, and how I am dealing with her death–or failing to.