Slow Glowing Dissolve

Where
do we go
after all this,

so little left to give,
silence of northern winter,
time running through our hands
and our veins like
the river runs
under its hard skin of ice,
like night runs from
morning
this is time,
daylight,
new year's
and almost time for new leaves,
for new leavings and
stayings behind,
for more dissipating of
our crowded memories.

But nothing transgresses
this space, no,
nothing ever could,
it was our own universe
where we re-wrote the laws of physics,

but even god gets tired, sometimes,
and so there are just these few
fragile words left,
this caustic intimacy,
this moment in the scent of you,

enough to imagine us
dancing
in the living room
to Bruce Springsteen,
with candles and champagne,
in time before our
new year
of bright blue silent winter,
of water lapping on the
frozen sub-ice
shores of
the Red,

time eroding the
memory of your voice
as it erodes us all, patiently,
gently,

through the slow
glowing dissolve
of
forever.