Late Late Night Sonnet Writing

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john

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Late Late Night Sonnet Writing	[Sep. 28th, 2005\|03:45 am]
She Left Without a Note By John Nicolaou I turn her pictures face down on the mantle, declaring this the age of warm forgetting. Soon, her bright arrangements of florid plants will die off. They’re wilting, water starved, regretting that she left them to my neglectful hands. I pour myself some wine and take a sip, for the advent of a novel age demands a christening, as with infants and ships. But in the darkness, breaking my decree, her memory comes forth, a proud insurgent. Why is it that the past can supersede our conscious will to forget in the present? How can we stand, pick up, and move on if we can’t keep from slipping in our own memories?
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kindof_blue
2005-09-28 07:01 pm (UTC)

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You should wear the costume for days before halloween, so that you stink like sewer urchin for the holiday. That would really show commitment.