Everything goes.
What I mean is, grief passes,
leaving emptiness.
One maintains a face.
One is polite, though prone to
distraction, how she
shrugs on her old coat
to go, how one smiles to be
broken in by her.
Glosses on texts by William Desmond
Everything goes.
What I mean is, grief passes,
leaving emptiness.
One maintains a face.
One is polite, though prone to
distraction, how she
shrugs on her old coat
to go, how one smiles to be
broken in by her.