SPRING 2013 (Issue 78)

Tamiko Beyer

from "Dear Disappearing"

[ wind drops and
                        alluvium collects
the end of winter can’t mend
                        your interrupted selves

what to cling to

     no thought at the light
     no light at the trough

a narrow shaft          we have kept
              this opening to ourselves (have
                   held it close)        we were waiting
                                                  for you
                                                  to become]


now in the choked
loose-sand trench
I understand how  seep

my body
undoes itself
and the wave
I forget

becomes flood
slow       relentless
no leak to stop up

but everywhere
the silence
of drowning         know

my imagination
thin in wind’s wail
and what we have
learned not to say
to each other
becomes what is

you do not hear
my eyes keen
at the gleam of your back