Tuesday, January 2, 2018

This Season


This season
With nonchalant
Disregard for
Summer’s pleasure
Stalks once more
Across the
Floor boards
Of my soul

New year’s passing
Barely cold
The old returns
With strident
Insistence, suffocating
Intention and
Slicing scars
With precision

Once more
In summer’s heat
I wait the
Thawing of
Hoary fingered
Icicles clutching
Ventricles of
A wounded heart

I shut
My eyes
In case the
River Styx
Should seep
Amongst those
Who have not
Stood in its tide

But I have stood
In the River Styx
I have waited, and
Waited for
The ferryman
Listening to the
Rasping of
His oars

Each year
This season
He comes
To remind me
Of what he took
And I wait
For he will come

For me

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