I’m sifting through some old writing and occasionally finding decent poems:


A bell rings somewhere in the distance
as the mist drifts in from the lake where
I last saw you, your face sparking
my memory, waking me in the dark
and charging me with the voltage of guilt.

The bell rings out again, and I close
my eyes, allow myself to walk toward
the sound that resonates in the leaves
and flows like liquid into my dry mouth
that opens to speak your name again.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s