No More Poems To The Dead

Be still for a moment.
In the year that I lost you
I drank more than I ate,
roads stank of curbs
which reeked of red
and peered over looming space.

I said: hear now,
in the hour of my undoing,
I reject you,
oh my dead friend,
your fearful symmetry cannot fold me
into the syllogism of paper cranes.
we are done,
finally.

There is nothing left of us,
not even a memory,
not even love,
this evening is just another crest
against the chest
while the heart still beats
to be broken.

* * *

That’s it.

12 thoughts on “No More Poems To The Dead

  1. i did indeed, ever so briefly. have returned to NY for work during the coldest month of the year. so enjoy that cali sunshine πŸ˜‰

  2. i did indeed, ever so briefly. have returned to NY for work during the coldest month of the year. so enjoy that cali sunshine πŸ˜‰

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