Body Electric | Spring 2017 Body Electric | Spring 2016 - Page 14

Hiraeth

 

The woods decay and memory decays

and all that’s left are the tokens I have

kept.  The letters are all burned, but

there is still the way I say some words

with lilts that tremor and sway

in your vibrato pitch.

 

I failed to master the art of keeping

you forgotten.  I go back to the days

where three steps to my two we walked

as night overshadowed sea

looking through the sand

for colors new and undiscovered.

 

I build elaborate tombs but none quite

does it justice: so many buildings scrapped,

repaired only to collapse again

that I’ve given up on architecture. 

Still I come back at times to fiddle with

designs like a composer who can’t

believe his symphony is finished.

14 Body Electric / Spring 2016