Henry and Loretta

Proud that there were no conventions to which they were
slaves, Henry and Loretta were intrepid about leaping
into waves. While others sought dry desert sands
or jagged landscapes – mountainous, arboreal –
on the day they call Memorial, Loretta would insist

that Henry not resist (when had he ever?): it was time
for the resumption of their wet endeavor: to jump in salty sea.
It would have been too cold for you or me. But splash, cavort
and flip-da-loop-da-lee would first go she and then go he.
The water’s rush and lap and crash and constancy

roared, lilted like a symphony: aliveness was an ecstasy.
One weekend they went out, did not return. A rip tide
scooped them not far from the beach and took them
beyond reach. As usual, the ocean yearned for amplitude
too much to give them back. As usual, we only feel the lack.


 
 
 
 
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