Monday, January 19, 2026

Memory

 

The wind spins darkly 

like a spider wraps her prey.   

Telephone wires flip and flail 

along the island highway.

Tonight the moon must fight

for its place in the roaring sky, 

and the stars are left behind. 

I almost forget the shape 

of your wrinkled brow when I asked 

have you ever been in love? 

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