Erysses book 2 – IX

February 8, 2017 § Leave a comment

please think of me as
I so often

you
remember

if

you do
my patience

             (now exhausted
I could not tell by your longing

what kind of flower almost bloomed

no language has a word for it
even though it was a weak joy

we sought the very shape of it

changed since those first wonderings
when all that was of concern was 

constructing our own narcotic

                   vowing

                   to go along

                   some natural course
but we 

drew the pin out of that ordinance
threw it on the road before us 
now we are but voices in our heads

linked together by rain

and rain only
     sitting all day in a picture
somewhere

forgotten
with

a kind of evening feeling

a quiet dusk
(c) 2017 Fred Whitehead 

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