Leaving
gust
air once here goes
to fill a vacuum there
dusk
the sun no more,
is behind mañana’s door
I can’t recall my last glimpse of you
you went
imagination is your wake
and here comes Go again blazing her trail of tears
while Gone is close behind
sweeping footprints with a green pine bough
from Going’s dust as I pine now
.
by Jim Culleny
9/12/13