issue 35 > poetry > kuspit

absence
       makes the heart
wither,
       fondness in presence,
yours alert mirth,
                          wit
of your face,
                 its knowing
innocence
         embracing us,
its knowing love
                        the last garden
left to us.
               let our shadows
sleep,
      our eyes awakened
by the new dawn,
                    its light
guiding us
          to the safety
of a wisdom
               where no furies
fester in the dust
                      of the past.






Also by Donald Kuspit:

beloved v
beloved vi
beloved vii