I Lost You in Edinburgh

by Carol Rucks

where Cowgate Street meets Holyrood,

not too far from the Museum of Childhood.

You moved too fast through the dark

and brooding avenues.

Medieval faces in the cornices,

oval lights of alabaster, burned

right through me.

I looked for you in Fleshmarket Close,

and climbed the dingy stairs to an opening

of golden light, the color of whiskey.

I heard the faint summon of a whistle,

the fife and drum of the tourist trade.

I thought I glimpsed your bobbing head

in the crowd at Candlemaker Row,

a woman at your side.

When the rain returned in sheets

of blue, black clouds pierced

themselves on the spire

of St. Giles Cathedral.