there are pages
yet unpublished
inkstain of a kiss
times and days
remembered
unto this

breath where i
another taste
a night
not long ago
words became a whisper
i love so

poems writ to places
shadows sworn to fall
binding us to something
more
than e’er we may recall

fingers bent
to fingers
silence bears us still
beyond the reach of leaving –
the memory of will

. . .