NOW I AM GROWING OLD

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Now that I am growing old, the circle darkens

under the eye.

Fingers broken in a long forgotten fall

cry out.

What mattered once has been broken

into small and smaller measurements of the space

we all are falling through.

The one I love calls me by a name that is no longer mine.

Her voice is like the Gulf, silver and curling.

The name she calls me is one wave of sound within her,  a wave

flecked with tar.

.

3 thoughts on “NOW I AM GROWING OLD

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