kit zak




After Emily Dickinson

Grief settles in the sinews
and winters in the heart.
It drives the sun away,
indelible, its mark.

Memory proves a traitor
when pain repressed can spring.
Longing for your goodnight kiss
inhabits nightly dreams.

Even in the morning
unbidden there it stalks
to pull the blind on simple joys
like musings when I walk.

I cannot lock it in the bank
or put it in a drawer.
Itís all I have to cling to
until that final Door.


back to issue 14

take me home