JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

feet slippered in December’s hush

she descends memory’s stairs

silent as snowflakes

so as not to disturb

 

finds him there

pen in hand familiar

upper and lower copperplate loops

 

as if years had not happened

ice had not halted

star-clocks advance

 

a sun-kissed mirage

he raises his head

looks through her

to some distant muse

 

January’s spell

hourglass frozen

no smile of recognition

 

only these queer words

by invisible fingers

buried in childhood

still undeciphered