entombed where I am, I recall those nights
we talked till daylight, reading and writing
poems to and for and by each other . . .
now nothing much remains of what mattered
to us then, not for us together, you
are farther away from me than heaven
is from hell. and yet, I hear your voice here
and there, see your bottles litter beaches
I roam to smell the rimed ocean, to feel
cool tropical breezes exotic damp
of well-traveled mists in worldly surf, and
to stand beneath the same moon I know shines
down on you where you live with your new love—
recalling those nights, here I am, entombed.
David M Pitchford
2 Oct 2011