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Click hereEvery year, it comes
unbeknownst
that quiet hour of passing
that date awaiting etching to
marble memory
and I
oblivious to finality
marching, marching, marching,
my matters to attend
I do not bend
to notice
nor pause consideration
to the end
This graceful anniversary
shall come reversed
no wine
no candles
and unrehearsed
Anticipating future mortality.
Deep and a little unsettling, yet this poem is reassuring: we are all experiencing the anniversary of our death as we live today.
And what of Olwen’s poem? The Little Death, one year ago?
Two outstanding writers with a special bond!
It's a year ago this week
That I came across your thread
It began when we started to speak
And you invited me into your bed.
"I'm bi-sexual" I told you straightway
"I bat for both sides you should know."
"So am I," you replied, "when I play -
Sit on my face and I'll devour your flow."
I did as you asked, it was fine
We now regularly eat one another
Your cunt juice is like a fine wine
I couldn't ask for a sexier lover.
🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟