Monday, June 15, 2015

Exile

 

I’m exiled from her
Or her from me these
Weeks deprived as she is
Of clear mind and I
Of the sight of her smile.
Trash is even now pulled
Out in barrels and dogs bark

At those sharp alarms.
Later someone may howl
Something more profound
Of loss and separation.
Is there a restoration,
Something like dawn
Breaking above the darkness,

Or will the longing
Wail across the foothills
Meld with coyotes questions,
Calls and answers
From a moonless night
When we won’t see
Each other once again?

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