~ for JH ~
Perhaps they were conceived
in one sanguine swell of thought,
and were somehow later
drawn apart, adopted out,
such that the words
took on different meanings,
wore different haircuts
and forgot.
They met years later, hanging about
at a reading in clusters of old poems,
printed and permanent,
freckled with commas but
still alive with shifting intonations.
There was confusion
but also calm.
It was as though one’s reflection
had reached out from the mirror
to take the other’s hand
and say, “I know, brother; I know,”
and nothing more.
Date: 2009
By: Zenobia Frost (19??- )
Leave a Reply