the pendulum swings back and forth back and forth tracing hypnotic circles in white sands drawing closer ever closer to my center I wait on
In memory of Lieselotte Porter 1925-2018 another empty chair another empty corner only resurrection assured this Easter morn are my ghosts who brokers the introductions?
we line up the edges of our frayed hearts thread a sharp needle with silken floss spun from fragile hopes newfound trust dreams private smiles
my reflection and I do not behave the way mirror images ought we do not face each other glassed twins one of us safely contained
melancholy an aquamarine tide that washes over me flooding my banks piercing my sea walls reminding me how deeply human I am how delicate how
Sappho wrote that words we leave unspoken will be wept if true soliloquies must rest like sugar undissolved on my tongue © 2017 Revised 2019