Love Field '63

Both hands and elbows
cantilever, scissoring the neck
as if straightening a bow tie that 
needs the finishing touch
of a woman’s hand.

She would have reached
to help him, her gaze meeting
his dangerous grin, and he
her perfect hair, the warm brown 
eyes that first captured his heart.

She is his mirror, beaming
adulation. Her smile his fix   
of inspiration, propelling 
reassurance he does not need
but will seek from her forever.

Engines gun, backfiring
pirouettes of confusion.
His head rolls, seeing all that 
she means to him recoil
as panic devours her beauty.

Swooping to break the fall,
capture, cradle and shield him 
from the sniping sky, his destiny 
is sealed in an unblinking eye 
that blows him to infinity.

Did Jackie ever watch Zapruder’s film?
Being there in close up forensic pink, 
white gloved, her lightning hand a dove 
chasing the spray of crimson petals to 
catch the millisecond, rebuild the flower.