In day’s collapsing breath
I glance briefly upward,
blinking remnants of sunset
that keep her from my view.

Oftentimes I curse the city
for its ceaseless wash of light.
I drive out to the countryside
where treetops guide a perfect path
to her undying burn.

She said,
"As long as that star shines,
that’s how long I’ll love you."
She’s gone three years tomorrow,
ashes perched upon the mantle.

That distant dot of light keeps her alive.

TA Gorton