Oil on board, 1989Don’t look for me I am gone
beyond all which may be known
lost in the hidden places
fallen between pages of yesterday
forgotten as the dust in our pockets
on a day we never met or kissed
I am the light on a distant roof
the cloud a church spire points to
accusing that which may never be
called to account too late
I am a door closed a moment
before you got there the keys
still swinging in the lock
in the wind of never was
the train not caught
a letter unopened
soaked in the rain of tears
fragrant erasure of love
unreadable on an empty pavement
remember me but treasure more
what we could have been
when you find me I’ll be dead
then you’ll understand
the mirror’s message written
on our palms crossed with thunder
of rained out summers whispering
now you’re dead too.

This entry was posted in Art, Poetry, Psychology, Uncategorized, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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