Carry it past goodbye


seeing you it is like picking up in
side a fist the flopped red petals of
a drooped red rose, and when you
speak in the voice that could only be
yours it is like staring into my fist
top’s opening and seeing the rose
as the rose once was. This is not just
to say that the swirl and sweetness
soon flops back open to what now is,
though it does, but that when I see
you after so long not seeing you
I make sense of my feeling in terms
of the rose, and carry it past goodbye.

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