I wander a desolate landscape each night, searching for you. I want to crawl into your mouth, pull out your words. No, I am in a cave. I am sticky with spiderwebs. My hands pull out bats. Echoes, I hear echoes of your voice. I cannot understand what you say. I cannot find you. I cannot cross the barbed-wire fence between life and death. You knew me before I was born. I knew you until you died. Maybe I didn’t know you at all. I cannot ask you. I cannot find you in this desolate landscape I wander each night.
published in Imogene's Notebook
Comments