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By Wislawa Szymborska Submitted by Kirk Date: 2004 Feb 24 Comment on this Work [[2004.02.24.12.24.29638]] |
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They say the first love's most important. That's very romantic, but not my experience. Something was and wasn't there between us, something went on and went away. My hands never tremble when I stumble on silly keepsakes and a sheaf of letters tied with string-- not even a ribbon. Our only meeting after years: the conversation of two chairs at a chilly table. Other loves still breathe deep inside me. This one's too short of breath even to sigh. Yet, just exactly as it is, it does what the others still can't manage: unremembered, not even seen in dreams, it introduces me to death. |