This, too

This, too, was a gift

In the dream you

came to me as words

scrawled in a book

I read over again.

I see you in the space

between breath. And then

an echo of you arrives:

In thin light, pull

yourself tall.

 

Saying goodbye

your frail body draws

next to mine and

for a fraction I

feel you lean

to let me in.

— Drew Myron

 

* title from a line in The Uses of Sorrow by Mary Oliver

* * *

The world turns on words.

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