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Suspirations in a Dark Cavern
This visitation has no lasting denouement beyond the black marks on a blank form, and when the circling birds flee at the shot words, the iterations of that woman who never ages, who never returns to the same lover, you linger. As her scent fades, as her eyes go dark from the ageless blue, you press a flower to the marked page, the page the lid of a coffin, and you bury them in the stone that has been given that a passerby may stop someday (or perhaps she herself might return) to read what she delivered, haphazardly but wondrously imparted: there is no remedy but while they live, they may live richer.
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2013-11-29 07:13:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
An excellent poem, subtle but feeling, intense but not graphic. As though you had found your voice. Don't lose it. JCH
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