bowl of sun

[Something from 2010]

Image

Here is something new

    A bowl

Sitting on the table

Morning light shines onto it

Into it

Being perpetually filled

But never overflowing.

                        Later

     as the horizon turns away

From the evening sun,

I think of my lover’s shoulder

Rolling over in the night.

       The day is done

The list is abandoned.

We succumb

To the languidness

Of forgetting,

An opiate that we seek

       When the rope gets too tight.

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