October 26, 2008
By Nicola Goldberg, Portola Valley, CA

I was trying to understand, or at least endure
all the beauty and guilt that engulfed us
the song that wouldn't be silent, the light that wouldn't be dark
illuminating my brittle hands, your inconsolable heart
and that unstoppable clock, that unending road
that leads us home and away again

this is the place where you belong, this place when I am not
it is not empty, not cold, not lonely, not free
so now you are trying to find something incredible
in the tying of a shoelace, the starting of a car
the ocean inside a washing machine,
the opening and closing of a book you read before

I know how carefully you will read this and how easily you will put it away
so that someday you might forget me
someday I might forget me, too.

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