GONE
Gone
She’s gone.
And I live
But cannot breathe.
Left without a mouth
Untongued by her goodbye.
Blind, deaf—stopped of all sense!
No face to launch my thousand ships,
No fingers to find my furrowed brow,
No voice to speak my name out of Limbo.
Now, who will say to me, “Rise up, Lazarus!”
Who will make that descent, the deep-spiraled journey
Guide me out of the cave across the burning river
Through the long flames where I may breathe again her breathless kiss?
Stanley H. Barkan |
