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

Want to read the rest?
Please login.
New to Narrative? sign up.
It's easy and free.
The password field is case sensitive. Account & Password Help.