Tuesday, May 16, 2006

The horrible consequence of longing

In the land of the living
you have been a witness to the sights
grandmothers' gloves -
an old drum - the dog
you thought ran away but instead
tells you things

like a promised swim
the heat and hornets
and your dad with a gun
of quiet

In the land of the dying
a moth is an angel
A moth
made of insignificant

an angel of memory

In the land of the living
the noises of everyday
the kettle - your husband snoring
the cat's impatience
You thought it was all wrong
but it is like water making its way
to the sea

In the land of constant shifting
you have stopped to listen
like the only sound
in a world - what you knew was coming
and like the dog - his desperate longing
a fatal moment
you who should forget the sting


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