by Bobby Duggal
What can I say to you my friend!
My trembling words are without light for your shadow.
Grief is selfish and cannot be shared,
it multiplies. What crazy fraction can divide the loss?
In the city's blank teeming space,
we are dead at night and ghosts by day.
Thoughts pile up on our plates
and each day our appetite shrinks.
Listening with ears that have become
nostrils, deafened by the echo
of a forgotten scent.
What can I say with my frozen tongue!