September 2005

POETRY

PHANTOM

aybe to find you >
in the gathering dusk,

a muted bamboo flute,
the moan of distant train

before the thing happened
that refuses to be remembered,

that look in your eyes,
the last breath you took,

the smell of you
on my trembling hands,

maybe to find you
hiding at the bottom
of an empty glass.

September 2005 Issue,