mardi, janvier 03, 2012

Everything but that...

I can forgive you everything but that

Words unspoken, you burrow into the darkness like a mole

The fantastic dazzles your eyes, the real evades you

I am not all oils and unguents.

I cut.

You bleed.

They do not rise trippingly to the tongue

These syllables

And yet they are the blood, sinews, flesh

That tie together the fragile relations between

Lovers, colleagues, friends

Making it possible to envision something more than civil, sterile truce.

Courage, mon ami. Courage.

It is not a place you know.

Deconstruction erases meaning as though it had never been

Remorse binds those fragile filaments, tying one reality to another

When I can forgive you this cowardice

Reaching out out your hand to mine only in irenic dream

It means (just so you know) your opinion and actions

Have no more weight in my life

Than the breath that stirs the dead leaves

Sending them skittering across the road as we pass

Into oblivion

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