Nostalgia—sweet and meddlesome—announces
my love of shadows.
Moments of syncretic intimacies and chemical
knowledge imparted, a mind prostrated to the
Invisible, sovereign soul departed.
Prescient and clear, I no longer stand vigilant,
candle lit, weeping or wailing or worshipping
ghosts, a prisoner of mnemonic love, a
servant of consecrated bones.
My heart empties out, vacuous, an abyss.
Fate swirls mother of pearl in an abalone shell
borne from Necessity’s kiss.
She had tied me in a knot at birth, while
preparing a scythe to cut me loose.
She had sent an angel to keep me, while
bringing my singular rose to bloom…
February 7, 2013
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