to grasp and then let go

You say I tend toward silences;
in these rifts, the world
I inhabit is a visual question,
marked by a balancing line
of light on distant water, a mirror
horizon. We affix binoculars
to what is real in this mirage:
a simple fishing rig, sunlight pouring
a swath of sea. I want your
hand to rest in mine, while I test
the real against the as yet
unknown, the present tense against
its picture: as the boat begins
to drift out of our range of vision,
we struggle to distinguish
the ruffles porpoises raise
from the action of waves.
It reminds me of the way our eyes
will try to meet in rearview
mirrors, of the loss I must suffer
whenever someone points
and I turn, but not in time.
I can feel the tugging
of the past in the way your fingers
almost pull away, then stay
to squeeze, and I know
just what it means
to grasp and then let go.
[Cathryn Hankla, 'The Tautology of Goodbye' from Afterimages: Poems]