Thursday, January 25, 2024

DIRGE

Like a black 
hole in deep 
space, 

only the assumed 
shape of goneness 
can be found

in the heat 
glow of tacit and
bereft regrets, 

unarticulable  
laments, 
and relieved 

not-yets—which 
in our ongoing 
silence, tend 

to spiral,
iridescent, all 
around it.