The idea of something I wrote a long time ago came to mind last week, and I spent a few hours writing it anew from my recollection of the images that had inspired it. I came across the original while cleaning and have reworked the poem, incorporating some words and ideas that I had forgotten. It still feels pretty rough to me, so I’d welcome suggestions or feedback.
I left beside the trail
in shallow grave the withered remains of love
I let white-iron truth sear
hope into healing
Today the specter drops through the mail slot
lies faintly aglow in the foyer’s dim twilight
I recognize the hand
blocky script small and neat among the bills
scattered on the flagstones
Fingers of pain close around my heart:
why won’t one so long gone
let me forget
what took such time to forgive?