on the mend

drinking coffee and wiping away tears
80-proof and three days of stomach pains
when images of your new life unfold.
long, unsent letters; awful poetry
read with short sighs, confessions, admissions
the pain of coming clean and letting go.

then restlessness gives way to dreamless nights
shiny objects that distract and more drink.
eventually summer seeps inside
and still, sweet nights that stretch endlessly on
moments of marvelling the loaded sky
and the discovery of devotion.

new faith is found in the intermission
between airport meetings and garbled calls.
squares become rounded and life, as it goes,
goes plainly again and in a fresh hue.
by trial-and-error I am learning:
distance is not always a tragedy