M. T. C. Cronin


Mountains, valleys, rivers merge
The land hides itself
in landscape
The day's form buried in my eye
like a grandmother in her coffin

The havoc of life is closed to the look
The shadow has taken to one eye
Ancient nights are never as old
as the days, simply light
all seen, unsaveable

The bittenness of her face
Madarosis and skin submerged
in sweet lake of destruction
deeper than this time
I note with now

The book that is better
tells of your embrace
The rockweed and the small fish
being careful in the nooks
of tossed waters

Death is not sudden
like stumbling into this love
but takes every beat of the heart
Joy married over and over
to the cough, the wheeze, the biographer

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 26, 2018

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