twelve
It is the urgency that must be attended.
I don’t know love’s configuration
when absent. I am not even I. The load
of love. The spell of presence.
Vex the space that woos time to a stop.
There is no other language:
The tree outside your window. A storm
inside that pours gently over leaves.
(11 September 2013)
copyright 2013 by Floyce Alexander
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