Mustering What's Left - Selected & New Poems - 1976-2017
. . . unresting death, a whole day nearer now, . . .
From: Philip Larkin ďAubadeĒ
It hovers, like the stink of sulfur or bad blood, wakes you in the night, squats
on the edge of your bed staring into space, unmindful of your sweat, your
knotted fingers or your trembling lips.
Itís then the darkness closes over, leaving you gasping for air, staring into
the chasm where no one speaks & nothing moves & you are now, for the
first time, completely, eternally & forever alone.
In memory of Neil Lehrman