Sunday, September 16, 2018

Single Mitten

Single Mitten

You're lost.

the fact forgotten,

the bramble-stolen path;

the lantern empty,

the coat that feeds the moth;
the one

whose voice was taken,
whose breath

could not get in,
whose absence

 breaks the coupled;
the pocket-eaten mitten

that makes 
its partner useless,

a rag 
to be disposed;

the shadow flying,

the eye that's closed.


~September 2018

Personal update: So many apologies for not reading or visiting these days, dear readers. I miss your poetry, and my own; all the voices which will no longer sing for me just now. My husband continues to fight the long defeat against his illness, but the time is getting short. I am hoping for some clarity on the other side, in which these frayed threads may be taken up again in some way. Til then, many thanks for all the concern, support and love you have shown me in this barren, foggy time.

 Image: top: author unknown, via internet. All rights reserved to author.
Gulls, 1982, ©joyannjones