2007

(Twice, twice)

I have forgotten your breath in night’s shadow.

When paper planes became lucent moons

that never stood still.

 

I saw you in a photograph.

Read your smile like a discography, 

eyelids the opening track.

 

Perhaps that’s when I knew

composers only twist metal to let it echo.

 

You, flying in the rain again.

Pushing focus, tires spinning.

 

This is music, losing you.