Wrapped in Metallic Blue

By Jim Pascual Agustin

after Kieslowski’s “Blue”

Poised at a bar stool, cube
of sugar between thumb
and index finger, crystal
by crystal darkening
into her milkless coffee.

This is how I want
to remember her.
Not the time she climbed
into herself, an armadillo
hooking arms and legs.

If she let you touch her heart
you’d find the frantic beating
of wings. Now our eyes
no longer trace each other’s
shadows. To her

I must be colder
than a fossil, or a lake
after months of snow.
“Make me laugh again,”
she said, “amble

like a penguin.”
I do. But there is
no laughter when grief
is a lollipop hiding
in her purse.


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Jim Pascual Agustin

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