Gone
Is there any way I might touch you
that doesn’t skim right off the surface
of your exquisitely contrived veneer?
Is there a plea which I might utter
that would stir you from within?
I am so near to you.
If you would still yourself to silence
for less than what it takes
to draw a breath,
you would know it is you
to whom I reach.
If there is a plea which I might utter
that could stir you from within.
If it isn’t you that turns to listen
to this last fading plea.
I am gone.
(2014)
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