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Tuesday 14 December 2010

Lament

"All but Death, can be Adjusted --"
Emily Dickinson


1.

Deciduous. Unrecognisable. Faded.
A crumpled katsura leaf before the fall
to a forest of flourishing fuschia.

From it coming an ambush of silence,
as if the waking from a dream
or the thought of death at death's door.


2.

The first tear fell in a sluiced rush
of diminuendo. Her keepsake,
the necklace of St. Christopher,
mid-flight to the arch of her neck.
Just kissed, yet cold. Like twilight.

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