The Hazel Flicker
by A. A. Parr
for Kyla

I recognise your face,
though the mannerisms skew:
a stray words slips like
a hair, windblown across the temple,
like that shimmer of electric light
below continents of clouds
just before the storm   breaks.

But you look back at me, unfazed,
you look out at me from someplace
else, and I wonder if
you wanted to forget, or if
it was the remembering
that washed it all away.

Clouds shift, and for a gleaming moment,
light ripples across,
the hazel flicker
almost igniting.

When the sky opens,
when your words fall as rain,
look for me then:
let me call across the winds
your remembered name.

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