The Honour and Discarding of Love

Trapped in this car
with my tiny child.

Screaming, "Where is my comfort; My Mother?"
How do I explain, my poor dear child?
I closed our vows in pique, not love;
The crescendoed peak of a minute life.

She loved cliffside rambles. So calm.
So come, we honour those seaside clasps
as I send you, windows closed, to the cusp
and wave and kiss to the sum of shot love.