a friend left in a book of photos:
lavender light over the snow flats –
and I wonder if he used it in a poem,
or if seeing, if the pleasure, was enough?
Now that you and I aren’t lovers,
I notice how the light at times
will race up your obedient body,
and reveal the flame I looked for –
the life I said I saw,
and hoped would be enough.
Nincsenek megjegyzések:
Megjegyzés küldése