I will not say nor provoke
a pity with a such vulgar display
as to describe a man cupped
in his deathbed.
I will tell you however, today
no moon rises as yesterday,
parenthetic and thin as a lip —
it held no words.
And I will tell you, Mars then
slipped in among the trees, ticked
with ochre, blind — bemused —
without gesture, without grief.
Just wanted to say I love reading your poems even though I don’t comment much.
Thanks, Jon. I always look forward to reading your work as well.
Love this. Beautiful
Thank you, SG.