A contemporary poem about a name in the ash, using a concrete image system, a pressured turn and a restrained open ending.
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A name in the ash is still a name, but it no longer calls me back. I touch the grey and lose the shape of you. The match has done its honest work. Some endings need no witness. Some freedom begins as residue.
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A dark poem of bathroom, can't, and foresee, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
A dark poem of moments, cherished, and now, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
A dark poem of meridian, passes, and sun, holding fear, fracture and survival in view.
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