The Hammer, the Song and the Twilight

I came across your fossilized remains in a broad cleft

and truth is, you didn’t look so different from the

other mastodons of the period; furry, slack eyed, half

burried in the tar pit. You made a lot of noise,

mostly words I could not make out, about the same

things I suppose.

I said mm-hmm a lot and rummaged in the fridge for wine,

all the time looking up Kent Street away

from the water and the city, west to the gathering clouds

and reeling if truth be told again, at the sameness of

this conversation, how preserved you are in time

how listening to you is like looking over my shoulder

how relieved I am to be divided by epochs.

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4 responses to “The Hammer, the Song and the Twilight

  1. Seems like a very personal poem, but beautifully expressed nonetheless 🙂

    Ya Haqq!

  2. Salamaat,
    I love it 🙂

  3. Salaam,

    This is an extraordinary poem.

    It resonated with me – I can feel exactly this way:

    “…reeling if truth be told again, at the sameness of

    this conversation, how preserved you are in time

    how listening to you is like looking over my shoulder

    how relieved I am to be divided by epochs.”

    Warmly,
    Baraka

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