Kaleidoscope
  By Patricia Pella

I don’t remember when the postcards stopped coming,
but I remember when I stopped looking for them.

Paper castles and cathedrals arriving every week
bearing fragments of thoughts meted out as intimacy.

I want to follow the sun you said.

Then came images of the Acropolis, temples we spent
hours studying, a shared passion waiting for the future.

Scenes slid into ruins between the lines.

You had stepped into our dream alone.
I knew you wouldn’t be coming back.