Specter Poem by Amy Serhienko
Specter
The mist swirls in front of me,
a plume of damp, soft haze.
I see your face in the cloud,
translucent, blurred -
your razored edges softened
by the white light of fog.
The vapors enfold the sounds of the street
in their moist embrace,
and I hear you call me,
again and again.
Above, below,
ahead and behind.
You are everywhere, it seems,
and I am getting lost in you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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9/18/2024 4:49:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
