R.I.P. (Robbie-1964-89)
Heather Long

on the mortal side of somewhere
there's a place that's near enough
where I sense you in the indigo,
as daydreams slip sideways, and
time has no perceptible consequence

elusive as you've become
I juggle the urgent need
to let you go
with a heartfelt desire to
repossess for you
the hopes and dreams
that gave you substance

balanced against the mystery
of what killed you
is a compelling urgency to
keep you whole and growing
into righteous manhood
ours, not forever or exclusively
perhaps, but, surely near enough.