Dessication: A Final Farewell
I spoke your name this morning, but the air
Remained unmoved despite the fact my head
Was lying just above your lock of hair.
I spoke your name last night while on my bed
Where just beneath my pillow I have stored
The curled black sent to me at my request.
I spoke your name, but only silence roared
Inside my soul, inside my scarless chest.
I spoke your name. The presence of your lock
Produced nothing. That perfect curl of black
Is paralyzed. My freeze dried heartbeats mock
Resurrection of grief. My spine lies slack.
Dry stillness has invaded it and me.
Wet moans have died. I breathe tranquillity.