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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