Coming home
this frozen solidity, a sense of purpose
in the way it swerves, bends, the twist of
an old, forgotten link. A lift across a wide,
barren ocean that time tried to ride out,
erase into a sepia memory on a picture card.
to overcome, forgive and surmount the void,
yet removing one brick could sink it all.
A lost letter, the sealant of an unlived life,
the date-stamped bringer of re-invitation,
the only wish he could never purchase.
she waits expectantly for him to cross.
He stands still on the other side,
a broken man with a crooked gait.
Here, in the middle, a numbed sense
of dialogue seeks to open its hands.
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