by Daniela Gioseffi
Talking with you, my dead Love, I’m glad
I married quarrelsome you.
Without you, I’d have simmered to silence,
easily taken for a ride to nowhere or Hell.
Your cynical wit saved me
from my untamed passions
you said enchanted you. I loved you more
than I knew, though I can’t tell you,
now all ashes.
Thank you for having loved me,
amidst the chaos of burning animals
You’re gone beyond lips, eyes, hands, touch,
except in my grieving heart
your voice, your face,
a fading sound and image in ravenous time,
eating my memory of you.
There’s no longing so complete
as the desire to talk with the dead.
Last updated May 23, 2011