The Many Goodbyes
Poesia, January 2007, p. 27
She smelled It and stared
Into the white robe at a stain
Reflection, and It was sour.
Anger penetrated the hour
As the fear closed in, as the pain
Turned, worsened, and dared
To divide their yoke.
He touched It afterwards
And before the wake waned.
At last open blinds were gained;
Written words teamed towards
The past as the rage chose to choke
His support. And even I -
I tasted It when I heard the blow
Of that speedy disease. In the end
I was left aloof, alone, to spend
All of It, while the circles would show
Up to stir their lost goodbye.
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