Captor

presence of pain
yes we all have wooden teeth
and crystal balls
when we need them.
never saw the future
only time passed
as poetry becomes my serenade
offered to the night
in a gathering of tears
shaping the cloak of your
   reluctance.
someday i will tell you
of all i had a love with
an image, a place:
that pocket of nothing,
a fear that
i must let go.

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©Denise Angela Celeste, 1997.