[ode] by D.A. Powell

where have you gone blue middle of a decade?       the gates creak.       a sigh so vastly different
the diary is pure spine.       in the most gingerly way each leaf opened reveals the less of you

83, 84, 85:    your relics in a converse box.       adoring letters from one upon whom you put the kibosh
shade trees bent to listen for a song.       [erasure?]       all of your best composing is lament

faithless time you steal the handsome petals for yourself.       a bruised fist of hyacinth becomes you
when the wind bears no whisper but alack:       an eye fears you & distance:       the short distance across

This poem comes from D.A. Powell’s book Tea. Click here to purchase.

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To learn more about D.A. Powell, visit his page on the Poetry Foundation’s website by clicking here.

And for all the indoor kids, like Max, this is a picture of hyacinths.

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