Impossible to know when enough

becomes too much, when heart

can ache no more, his smile 


brings sadness to her eyes. 

Maybe, when despair rings out,

long, a lonely final gong,


dense, in fog. Or when she 

no longer believes he will battle 

surf, pull her from the sea, 


bring her quite breathless

to the beach, kiss her deep

until she breathes. Like Calypso,


she begins to sever those ties

failing to bind, unravel knotted 

leftover love, mute siren call 


once tying her to him to mast.

She sets out alone, rides

long ocean swells to shore, 


begins funeral preparation.

She piles his love notes high,

sets them afire, mourns


beside the pyre. After a time,

she prowls fire-lit beach, 

scans the sea, begins to sing


la chanson into darkness. 

On the strait, a new Odysseus

lifts his head and screams.

                             Timothy Pilgrim