What's Left

Barry Spacks

The house of memory clears its burdens...
she hasn't thought of you in years --
wouldn't be able to pick you out
in a naked two-man lineup.

And so, what's left? The thought, like trance,
of how her beauty moved you once --
how you'd blaze and melt, blaze and melt,
at the touch of her lingering hand.

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The 2River View, 1_1 (Fall 1996)