poetry critical : poem

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Happy New Year, Brother Bill

Isabelle5

We were a magic circle of candles,	1
you were the light flickering,	2
I was the floor	3

and we prayed with foreheads touching,	4
a position I have never again attained,	5

too stiff with rules, with longings	6
that bled rust tears to ruin me.	7

When I run, I falter.	8
I hear joints creaking,	9
screaming, "Stop! You are	10
no longer young!"	11

If we had known what was to come,	12
we should have burst into flames,	13
been carried away on the wind	14
that blew sweet across the sleeping garden	15
that we carefully explored, little scientists	16
looking for signs of life.	17

Autumn fire makes my eyes water,	18
makes me want to light candles,	19
lay with my head on the floor	20
and conjur what was once us.	21

Instead, I buy a new notebook and pen,	22
make resolutions that burn holes	23
in the page, into my life,	24
where you taught me to dream and run.	25

12/31/14

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poetry critical