This present tragedy will eventually turn into myth, and in the mist of that later telling the bell tolling now will be a symbol, or, at least, a sign of something long since lost. This will be another one of those loose changes, the rearrangement of hearts, just parts of old lives patched together, gathered into a dim constellation, small consolation. Look, we will say, you can almost see the outline there: her fingertips touching his, the faint fusion of two bodies breaking into light.
Added: 25 Mar 2002 | Last Read: 19 Feb 2017 10:53 PM | Viewed: 9492 times
A PoetryNotes™ eBook is available for this poem for delivery within 24 hours, and usually available within minutes during normal business hours.
ON SALE - only
For more information...