the gods xxi by Donald Kuspit

 

 

forgotten at last,

                               you are fuller than you ever were

in the embrace

                           of my innocence,

when there was no need

                                              for words,

only unalloyed wonder.

                                            now doubt has dramatized

your presence,

                            suddenly poignant with regret,

and archaic emptiness.

                                            i toy with the thought of you,

intemperately aware

                                      of your unawareness

of death,

                 even as you breathe it in with every silence.

breathe me in,

                           that we become ghosts

of each other,

                          complete ourselves

with the otherís

                             incompleteness.

 

 

 

 

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Donald Kuspit