This light, in this one place, drapes old years with new glow
Gathers together flaccid flesh, to cast in tight shadow
In it you will recognize my own youth
In a shape that left behind no remembrance.
Here, in this angle, in this light drape; it is yesterday again.
I must be still. This shade must grow root and ground
This stem like waist, the hair flip, the sinuous lines of my legs –
Until marginal etchings sweep smooth over pleated skin –
And memory’s motes melt in Erebus’s arms.
There held tight, all together, in entombed communion.
It stills. It waits. For you to take notice.
I tire and unconscious shift into the familiar hideous
The edifice splinters and detritus spills over
Floating back to sight; now as speckled incandescence
You don’t notice that either.
You are preoccupied with the other in the mirror
Oblivious to all that just passed by.
Art Credit: ‘Interior, Strandgade 30’ and ‘Encore et Toujours; Vilhelm Hammershoi