your death at 58

58 steps to your death
the topography has changed now
tomorrow is a vessel
filled with your dust
or my anger these 58 stones
cast in that dessicated plain
tomorrow is a nocturne
playing fast and loose
with that which I thought
I knew these plans that
were not made these pleasures
that are not remembered
you walk carefully through
henderson you're now the
champion the wrath has come
to be your solace everything
I thought I knew you took
for granted as a lie
as another lie the 58th
lie of this great dramatic
wheelie your limbs suddenly
free in the air the canyon
below the pattern not there
the nocturne played out
this distinct memory of your
death in front of me
today
the day before


This is my 300th post to this blog. Thanks to those who have read some of these lines. I am grateful.

This poem refers to someone I once loved. That person no longer exists; who she is now is someone I do not know in any meanngful fashion. We all change, though I may claim to have some understanding of what she has become. This poem acts out of a consciousness that is flawed. Still there is truth extent in these statements, whether it is inside or outside of the piece itself. In a certain fashion, these words find her dead, finally. At least the woman I once knew.