Poem: Necromancy


From one day to the next, I never know

when the face will show itself again

in a mirror or a pan of water,

as if unearthed by the ceaseless, circling

plough of my mind. It’s always the same;

a happy, younger me, long gone,

the dead returned to speak with the dying.

I wonder if he understands me,

as I don’t understand him.

As we stare at each other

across the abyss, he fades to watery thinness

and so do I, from one day to the next.

 

(from Temptation in the Desert, Agàpe Publications, 2002)

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