by Mark Fischweicher
Huddled within their own bent and twisted ruins,
Utah Junipers let parts of themselves die
…………………………to save the rest.
Ancient leafless branches curl up close to living stems,
Remembering what could have been
…………………………………..or,
……….what once was.
Letting parts of myself die to save the rest,
Revising this and that of some forgotten vision here,
Imagining what could have been once, was,
I turn my gaze away from thoughts that only went so far.
Rewriting bits and pieces of some old notations,
Quieting the old piano
I keep my eyes averted from notes that simply linger in the air
No eulogy will raise memorials there, no stones will mark the place
The old piano… quiet now
with all our singing done,
I eulogize, I do. I mark this place
But moss already grows upon this tome
With all our singing done,
I huddle in my own entangled shell
The moss already growing where you had gone
our limbs uncurled, untouched by these old arms.
Mark Fischweicher has been scratching out poems since junior high school and still hopes it may become a regular thing.