Jan
14th
Wed
14th
The silence is so complete he can hear
the whispers inside him. Mostly names
of women. Women gone or dead. The ones
we loved so easily. What is it, he wonders,
that we had then and don’t have now,
that we once were and are no longer.
It seemed natural to be alive back then.
Soon there will be only the raccoon’s
tracks in the snow down by the river.
-Winning on the Black, Jack Gilbert.
