Sunday, October 20, 2013

Empedoclean Fragments

When you leave
this place,
I will write postcards
that I will not

to remember
the flickers
of time that I wanted to hold

your body           
                     to understand the silence,

how the world passes

into your lungs and out
again, parsing the bones

around your breath,
tidal force
for mine.

                Friend, you are
like light,
                   glossy mooning
    I am caught           reflected
    in its glassy spell,

                of the ground beneath us,
how it opens,
                how when you leave
                the flames
                                    will also.

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