July/Aug 2019 • Vol. XLI No. 4 Poetry |

The Date

What is it that’s still keeping you here in the damp air and in the wind scowling at the lilacs. Is it the house where in the shadows you once touched stone bodies and made tears gush forth? Or the path through the brambles that your steps let you lose in lassitude like an old desire, a childhood abandoned beside the pond, which continues keeping count of the dead on its own near the sky?  — and you would still like to lean your head on its frail shoulders before reading the last date of your days there in the grass.

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The Farewell

By Guy Goffette

What is it that’s still keeping you here in the damp air and in the wind scowling at the lilacs. Is it the house where in the shadows you once […]

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