: to flow or leak out slowly, to disappear or ebb, like time, or love, or music from a hidden box whose source you'll never find, or secrets slowly lost so that in time they're not secrets anymore, but slime, the stuff that covers everything at last, the bog of feelings bagged like eggs, the complex mucus, the visceral fecund night ragged as a flag -- breaking and unbreaking -- from which we came. Copyright © Stan Sanvel Rubin. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S EVE by MALCOLM COWLEY ON BRODSKY'S COLLECTED by MICHAEL S. HARPER VICTOR RAFOLSKI ON ART by EDGAR LEE MASTERS GOLDWING MOTH by CARL SANDBURG DEDICATION TO THE LATER SONNETS TO URANIA by GEORGE SANTAYANA AFTER DIVORCE; FOR NAHID SARMAD by KAREN SWENSON |