For Mike

by Marti Grimes

Two ebony marble walls slash

into the earth like twin swords.

Slowly, they draw me nearer

to search for your name

among the thousands:

the chiseled dead.

I stop to watch a stooped man,

his jacket frayed fatigue,

his gray hair pulled back tight in a ponytail.

With swift charcoal strokes

on stark white paper,

he brings a name to life.

Tears track his cheeks.

I move on, panel after panel,

my reflection a time-traveler on the Wall,

until I find you—

At last, you are in my arms.

I hold you close within the shadow of myself.

I touch your name…stone cold.