A Comet’s Return

A comet abroad:

it’s been gone

for too long

 

Waste not a day,

It streaks past me—

a second or two

 

I feel my better English

return to water

for what’s needed

 

Can’t believe it’s been this long

since I’ve been needed—

eyes like wet prisms

 

Porches with candle scars;

knuckles dance in the cold;

limbs bridged over rivers

 

Left lone by a night,

marked by a tail—now gone.

 

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