Poem: Nunc Dimittis

Dismissed, but not summoned.
No vision stays
the advancing numbness.
Insensibility without release,
like a coma.

If only souls were fungible;
numerical superfluity
restored Job’s stolen joy,
but for alterity there is no
substitute: all-singular, all-
wondrous, all-you—
all gone. Those incorrigible
ringlets around your temples, the
quiet dignity of your refusal, the
childish rapture of another fatuous
story.

Old joys sow petrified
sorrows in the upturned bed
of memory. Excavator
of half-truths, paleontologist
of mythical misunderstandings,
I root around seeking
traces of you.

Replay the
reel of summer
until the screen flickers
white and black, bled dry
of August’s amber glister.
In this light, blindness looks
like salvation.

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