Sinking in a sponge
of soft murmurs
Circling circuitous
words of the dead
My grip slips loose
from the coma of passion
Leaving only an echo
behind, ahead
Notes: WS Merwin wrote several poems about feeling like time was running out, and having a sense of purpose that would remain unfulfilled in his lifetime. By ‘coma’ I mean the space around a comet, as well as the state of being in a coma.
Lisa Rodrigues 