Wednesday, September 28

remember

Inchoate still, a longing that grows
unbearable with the heaviness of time,
as swift as, from mountains, any snow-melt flows,
inchoate. Still, a longing that grows
is hot and ridged; like an old scar, it quietly shows
hints of its existence. It prophesies decline,
inchoate still--but a longing that grows
unbearable, with the heaviness of time.