The past has come apart events are vagueing the future is a seedless pod the present pain. Not even pain has that precision with which it struck youth. Years like moths erode internal organs hanging or falling in a spoiled closet. Does you mirror bedevil you? Or is the impossible possible to senility? How could the erstwhile agile and slim self- that narrow silhouette- come to contain this huge incognito- this bulbous stranger- only to be exorcised by death? Dilation has entirely dominated your long reality. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEALS IN PENOBSCOT BAY by KAREN SWENSON THE RUSH OF THE OREGON by ARTHUR GUITERMAN THE EARLY PRIMROSE by HENRY KIRKE WHITE A BIT OF MULL by FREDERICK HENRY HERBERT ADLER TABULA SECUNDA IN NAUFRAGIO by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THURSDAY IN HOLY WEEK by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |