Three Poems for January
I return to them
As I return to you
That dream I never dreamed
Or that missing picture in the fireplace mantle.
These days are filled with a thousand things
That the weight of memories bends itself towards forgetting.
There is a door that let’s things in–noise, music, images, smells; the smell of onions from the kitchen, family, the hand of a lover. It is horrible and beautiful–for a few moments everything is inevitable! You cannot stop it. There is no need to decide.
will mark this passing
No tender words will be uttered
Stone will rest precariously on stone
But none will stir
The trees will stand stupefied
A thousand limbs twisted
In a pitiful embrace.
And not even one bird