telegony
XVI
denied to you, sleek old age forever
a mist hovering just out of your reach
above the surface of the water, turned
over in my mind like a poison-tipped
spear, condensed into a memory of
a song, kept in a box in the corner
of my room, coming forth in waves now and
again as the moon sits in her throne of
clouds, vengeance lost and no longer cared for,
an ache, a reminder of where we lived.
page revision: 3, last edited: 06 Jan 2026 21:33