Dream-Clung, Gone
Undertow of dive bar juke unboxed
Driving past a rust-red door unjambed
Coin-operated groove side-shimmies, unflung
A seamlessly upholstered stool’s unwound
Once I fell in love with an Absence. It outgrew the
apartment and wouldn’t take off its clothes. After we moved it turned taut and
slinky, hid in shadows or slid provo-catively beneath my coat. Three winters
now and the Absence is restless. It’s blown across the river, arrives late when
it meets me for beer. The Absence is singing:
This is the song of a
dawned dance
This is the dance of a
dusk-drawn song
This is the fall of a
moaned trance
This is the clang of a
dream-clung gong
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