The limestone bones
that carried me (and
cradled me) she bent
and dropped in
coronet
repose.

It's not worth mentioning
(or lengthening) or
writing down
the aching this
engenders
I suppose.

She plucks her thoughts
behind closed eyes
each question the
new petal of a gently
throbbing rose.

The answers:
each and every one is me and
I for one
cannot believe
the all-consuming answer
that she chose.

. . .

copyright 2000, Linford Detweiler