tom taylor

for sentries

an alpine silence too much of not enough
for too many is long enough to count it
on both fingers retaining clarity in the face
of what remains on the plate after dinner

these allowances mark the sky sudden or
complete in the glow of metabolic signs
from the deeper regions of the race itself
in no particular hurry to extinct but still

at these junctures we clasp and recall the
lady on the couch you couldn’t respond to
so long ago it aches, then night recalls you
to dreams and paths in the woods to here