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Friday, December 14, 2007
New Poem: The Past
The Past
As if rising from a winter fog, suddenly
there is a past, my past, composed partly of you,
but then the trees, those ancient oaks, and ravens,
and the arms of night embrace me whole.
In the fragile minutes before sleep, a magnification
of you, your scent, opaque, a denseness as though
your body was lying next to mine, but then
the silence , a murky thickness of loss.
The end was waiting, gathering me together
into its arms, offering solace against the cold.
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