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"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Bill Schreiber


Black Water

A piece of your eye shines in mine
a blue stone to break well water,
catch sun from a hill on the horizon
and last as long as I breathe.
I am still your child as I fold your picture, put
it in my pocket to find later in the dryer
as your dresser now drowns in dust,
the bed still unmade from when you last used it,
and a fallen drink stained the carpet.
I can believe anything I see but
must hear the distance from eye to memory,
smell the earth opening to its damp shadow,
taste the silence of words you never spoke,
feel you take a breath and accept its end.