Wednesday, July 7, 2010


Those I did not ever see again.

I returned to your house on the hill
it was still there,
the feeling.

I had to go there to make sure I didn't lose it.

I climbed up the hole in the wall
and lay in your sheets
let the web of unknowing cloak my eyes

Sat at the traffic light, yours next to mine
goodbye, and see you next time

I see that you are crying but I don't see it at all, only the hot water tears.

I write backwards in the hope that poetry will return you to me.

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