Making Faces
Long ago
is but a myth:
It's just Now making faces
The future
is someone walking backwards
while the trees bend in the wind
and the silences 'tween words wind up,
empty
I've reached an old age
which is a room without walls;
windows scattered through the landscape,
ceilings hovering like magnifying glasses
This age is supported by the dead,
who are strong like body builders,
with nothing more to lose
Names sink like ships
on the horizon
”After the first death there is no other”,
says Dylan Thomas
He heard it
I hear it
and those years are magnified
Even those who vow
not to use Facebook anymore,
go somewhere,
perhaps into the double silences
between words that were never uttered
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Read 180 times
Written on 2022-04-28 at 13:54
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