Now that she is gone
twilight lasts longer
than the day and when
the evening star burns
through the clouds a
cold wind slowly
reshapes itself. Houses
are trapped in a dance
of immobility, the din
like that of dreams,
and over the dark side
of the soul a bird flies,
wakening every sleeper
with its cries. Now in
the gated cemetery I
am left alone with my
lost friend. The dead
are so invisible pinned
by their human fate
in the winter heavens.
Frost lies all around
me and I breathe in
overdoses of oxygen.
Her words still resound
so loudly in my mind.
Above me a distant door
is heard closing far off
in another year.