Shadow Boxers
Here again, that strange time of day
when certain shadows of the past
meet less-than-certain shadows
of the future, unwitting partners
sparring dimly by interior light.
Our compulsions come out
to watch, with their vicarious desires,
before the shadows finally recede
again, into another day – or is it night?
The two always circling each other
like anxious prizefighters,
looking for a way in.
Reminding us, if only briefly,
what we started with.
What we have left: a lifetime.
In the Leaving
(Ode to Jim Beam)
The last time I had you inside me
was ten years ago today,
when I decided to resist the next day’s
calling – as familiar by then
as drain-water flushing through wall-pipes,
whisking away all doubt and resolve.
You’ve come calling since,
to remind me – how lovely the late light
looked through your golden-brown haze,
how delicious the cool cavern-y air tasted,
soaked with your sweet heady vapor.
What it did to the soul.
We can celebrate together if you wish,
though I will not welcome you in.
Knowing now who you are, what you did.
But we may reminisce from a distance
just the same, recalling what we went through
together, the good and the bad.
Then I will again find life in the leaving
and celebrate what remains.
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