Sunday, 21 June 2015

ON THE CUSP OF RECALL

The woman holds
a basket woven from
spiders-web silk.
It's filled
with traditions
forgotten,
and she wanders
through
the sleeping city
trying to remember
the architecture
of love,
the customs
that combine
to make a life.
She feels close
to grasping
the notion,
but before
her mind
can get a fix—
it separates
and she is
left tremulous
with despair.

4 comments:

  1. Oh yes that moment that seems pivotal...when you can see it and it's in reach it sometimes makes it disappear...aptly and beautifully written..

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  2. Oh WOW, that ending especially grabbed me--so familiar. Good write.

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  3. The ending was the clincher...excellent poem !

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  4. Everything centers on that basket...and everything is lost...so sad.

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