Brighter than Cold

She was luminous,
like aluminium bleachers
or magnesium light.
Always running hot
and cold, tempered, and
oblivious to her own chill.

For three months, when I
was 12, I thought maybe
I loved her. She’d stand
in the doorway, and absorb
every thought, most of them
about her — self-absorbed
comes to mind.

And I’d like to know, where
were all the warnings.
You know — those signals.
Those triggers.
Someone asked me, Didn’t
you see it coming? Well,
no, I sure didn’t, and
not because love's blind.

She was always climbing
on rocks. Boulders. Looking
over cliffs. Over edges.
Nobody thinks this sort of
thing’s going to happen, not
to someone they know. She
jumped. We never knew why.