Yesterday was the last day of summer
and it makes sense
you weren’t with me

then. Or even
on this rainy afternoon –

you’re teaching me to live
apart from you, which has reduced to

breakfast dishes crowding the nightstand,
the TV droning with some Julie Christie drama,
My black hair unwashed for a fifth day.

After all what’s grief to someone
Who never tires of longing
Except a manner of existing
In the present, where nothing is derivative.

Strange. It’s much easier now to reconcile
The scene of when I first saw you –

Crossing a city street on a busy September afternoon
The one perfect moment before language.

– David Semaney

(foto: Black Flashback, Mariken Wessels)

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