Comments about Jonathan Alford
She is drowning evermore.
Black dresses rivet when the wind blows.
Drops are gliding down your cheekbones.
This corpse, it slumps its way to Hades.
Dear God, I beg, let her sleep at my shoulder
Under wooden sheets- we’ll dream eternity.
Or bear me new body in infancy;
I will find her in old age, a tired widow.
And she will recognize my touch.