of dark, of Wychwood

by D. Garcia-Wahl
 
The moment was carpentered that he should be alone
where his confessions trail like the seasons
and the essence of his remorse
is the fullness of its silence
Like a shadow
'less he paces
he is no more than a stain
It is the riddle of conclusion,
It is the obviousness for rebuttal
keeping waves dry to his face
Conjuring images in a bay
just shallow of such depths:
The grave of the way she watches him
with a sin that divides form from flesh
The devouring of her memory
The whisper of her words to water
In a horror the ebb will not denounce

If Heaven cannot promise more of a dream
than promises a dream makes
How can he?
Better to name this lake
as you would this man
Anonymity
and leave it to nightmares
to right themselves

The story of man is man

 2003 by D. Garcia-Wahl. All rights reserved.
Home