, ,

~~for acb~~

The man has left us.
A partimen I’ll write
to prove our dialogue
has simply moved
to some new great
and richer plain
for us to meet
absent the vain.
You called them once—
or was it me?—
the borderlands
where Rumi plays,
and Sappho giddily
explains why only
fragments of her ecstasy
can reach this mortal soil.
you traveled well,
and now those tolling
bells of Chartres ring
for thee.

© Elaine Stirling, 2017