Salim Gold

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Abbreviated Elegy

 

When we say we love, we mean to say too,

“God be with you,” not Goodbye.  But we can’t

Oust Sorrow from Love’s statements; such sorrow

Looms as birthright—and heritage—and curse.

Feeling its pure form, we sob as if we’re

Two vintage violins.  No matter our

Superb experience—coupled and one,

The tears that drown our cries cause us to faint.

True:  We’ve neither temples nor transcendence,

But just a song of breath—a dream, our Being

In transit, but, in love, intransigent,

So it remains fixed, though we’re moved.  Removed,

Separate, to bread and milk, we strand vineyard

And wine until our next taste, face-to-face.


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