shadow


the vague light yellow
wax candles
giving ghostly form
every well-known fact in this room
where I dwell already century and a half
unclear itself
confused
caught their existence
rustling leaves newborn
occasional howl of the wind
and I
conceived and pale
tired of the terrible memories
memories of the boy
and fake a smile
in the corner of his lips
memories of face paint tracing paper
but century and a half
kills me echo of his voice
when asked frightened wind
whether on land
contradictions
or just waves cry