The Remainder

[jim turner]

So, that’s the way it is
and will be from here
on out. Love dead, this
remains. What was dear
drowned in forgetful sea,
sunk deeply, out of sight.
What’s this? The broken key
to eyes, touches of delight?
Shall my numb tongue savor
again cinnamon or wine,
the drunkening flavor
of lips? They were mine!
What’s left is mine as well,
kept under keyless lock:
memories I cannot feel
and time without a clock.

Jim 10/19/08