Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Autumn's Other Half

You follow me
in your jacket of mist;
tall as a tree or street lamp.
Your hand carries
the wind’s letter scented
                            with rain and light smoke.

I want to turn around
and embrace this other side of you –
the lover haunted

by wet cobblestones, twigs scattered
like burnt matchsticks
that once ignited a courtyard
                                   (leaf -golden)

and fountain water –- so cold, clear
it echoes what we see
and failed to perceive.

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