purple sky

you had the nerve to walk up to my door
the day of my father's funeral
you didn't ring, you knocked and stood there
as if you had exactly planned every movement

it was not late, maybe four in the afternoon
but it was already dark, the glooming purple sky
that's how it is in anchorage
that's how winters are

lately i recall that visit of yours
more often than i would want to
the darkness, your silhouette behind the double door
it echoes in my head, the double knocking, the aftermath

i can reenact your every sigh, your every word
play it in slow motion, fast forward to the very boiling point
                                                                                /of the water for tea
rewind to the awkardness of me opening the door for you
                                                            /as if nothing had happened
remain still in the exact moment where your smile
                                                                    /became a smirk

it all happens like that lately
below the ominous purple sky, and the darkness
that's how it is in anchorage
that's how winters are


blake lamont (Anchorage, AK, 1985)