Fixed among the Embers
I have this widowed sense about my life,
A lack of presence so profound that love
Is alien. I’m like a sloughed off wife
Or prayerful addict now divested of
My sacred drug. The sense is I have lost
A major universal law surrounding me,
That gravity specifically has lost
Its sway, and time is now eternity
Suspended. Husbandless past wives may feel,
But I am Dido on a pyre beyond
Abandonment. No, worse than that I kneel
Forsaken where your corpse cannot respond,
However coolly—I was never your
Consummation. My grave will give the cure.