Motorcycle Widow

I heard your motorbike, I thought,

Parking by the gate.

And then the engine cut.

I heard your chunking keys

Within the front door scrape

And then your booted foot.

"Hello," you said, "it’s me."

I met your helmet in the hall,

But saw the visor’s gaze

Was hollow without eyes.

I touched those leather gloves

Still shaped around your hand,

To feel your grasp,

But air was all they held.

One moment’s inattention on the ride,

One throttle turn too quick,

One sudden brake,

One Slip…

And someone’s car had scars

Where bones and mangled metal hit.

And blood was on the road.

Can I forget your wheels

Or ask the street

To give you back to me?

Only the smell of leather

In my arms would sop my tears

Or take me where your wheels have flown

And echoes of your engine sing.

Can I forget your voice, my biker king?