From The View Of A Year

For Broken Hearts

I expected the chill bones of winter

to once again chitter

hissing icy reminders in my ears

scraping, scritching across the forever splinters

still packing gale force gut punches

and sickening squalls


I suspected the glacial recession of connection

the freeze-thaw-refreeze of retreat

calving grimy gray clods of what was

exhuming what is, abraded and raw

I confess, I don't recognize this place 

though I'm told it's home


I did not dream of the luxury

of warm, liquid forgiveness 

clinging in crystal drops of minutes

a burbling trickle of hours

swelling, an eventual wellspring of days

without grief, without pain


And I never dared hope for the balmy grace

of unflurried moments of radiant serenity

when the thought of you

not thinking of me 

is but a ghostly cloud

skimming across my sun

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Originally written 1/25/15

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