Jody Azzouni

Poetry

Dead and Gone

Originally published in Pleiades 19:1, Winter, 1999
Added 9/25/2020
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Dead and Gone

Poem | Jody's Notes

 

I hold the seashell in my hand

and practice nostalgia. What better

object to tell secrets to: “I

loved her,” I tell it. Then

I cup it to my ear, and

like a bat, listen for an echo.

Narcissism breeds disappointment

in this context at least.

The thing is bone-dry, and yet

the ghost of an evaporated sea

yells my way. Tonight, alone

in my bed, I will dream

that I spread my black wings

like an insect while the dawn

cracks open the ebony egg of night

neatly along the horizon.