Three Poems

I Have Forgotten You, My Self

But still, like smoke
                                                 above a blown-out match
you linger in the dimming
                                                 aftermath, grayer and fainter
than a breath: a quiver
                                                 silvering the once-gold air,
slowly curling over
                                                 but more slowly blurring back

Please log in to access the full content.
If you are new to Narrative, signing up is FREE and easy.