One More Aurora
The last memories of August sunlight
Still flicker behind closed eyelids
As the brain searches for sleep.
As an escape from heat humidity
Images from once distant dreams
And those as yet unformed
Surface in the lightened darkness here.
They rear the heads of ghosts
From the not yet born.
Why mourn or turn and toss?
They amount to a loss
Not yet calculated
By a nonexistent God
Whose pictures of dried sweat
Sit almost comfortably
On the wrists of Time.
Tom Savage
8/13/05
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