Ann Fraser

     

     

    Remains

     

    Release all that is unfinished

    between us,

    empty of dreams

    and imagings,

    past recognitions,

     

    say something

    about death

    and pain,

    the lack of alternate

    endings.

     

    Open your hands

    or close them,

    look away

    from me,

    pretend you are free.

     

     

    Travel by Car

     

    Air hissing

    through cracks

    of a window,

     

    insufficient light

    against a mirror;

    the study

    of lines and expressions.

     

    Eyes, a mouth

    slight closed

    or open,

    past miles of fields

    and fences;

     

    houses and gardens

    touching

    to obsure

    the boundaries,

     

    passage of dark or light,

    whatever comes

    from the sky,

    each season -

    all thing gone from.

     

     

     

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Gábor G. Gyukics
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