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Tuesday, August 14, 2018

Still Life



Still Life


I sit
by a dish of light
with darkness at my back.
I throw in words,

flowers of flame; only
the dry, bright ones--
you, remember, once, then--

while I leave the sodden
syllables in a pile--
now, tomorrow, alone, gone--

for nothing
will make them
burn.

We can't speak the tongues
of each other's pain;
still, we huddle in light
and forgive.





~August, 2018















Image: Stilleben mit Blumen, 1908, by Heinrich Kuhn    Public domain