Tuesday, July 19, 2011

In Honor of That Which Has Passed

Stolen from a Mystic Medusa post, I so relate this to one of my favorite loves.

Courtesans of tenth century Japan knew
the keening of the caged copper pheasant,
solo double-note aria for a missing mate,
could be silenced with a mirror
The ideal of a love that completes 
masks a yearning for homeostasis,
a second umbilical, island fever,
harmony tighter than unison
dull as a solved equation;
like the ex-lover who said,
“Being with you is like being alone.”
He meant it as a compliment.

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