Embedded Files
My poems for this tanka sequence were from a set originally written in 1996 and 1997. In October of 2016, when I rediscovered these poems, I sent the set to David Terelinck, who chose four of them and wrote response verses. This sequence was published in Skylark 5:1, Summer 2017, pages 96–97. David’s verses are on the right, in italic.
by Michael Dylan Welch and David Terelinck
the hour candle
burned to a stub—
sycamore leaves
swirl through your porch
in an endless circle
the paleness
of the poplar’s limbs
before new growth—
on hearing she needs
a stem-cell transplant
after all these years
the oxalis still blooms
and someone still seems
though she’s gone
to be tending the orchard
those memories
that seem to cling to us
each passing year
these heart-shaped leaves
grow harder to cut back
for this moment
no creek burble
no wind sound
no bird calls
no beating heart
and if I step
upon this moon bridge?
they say blood
is thicker than water,
but what of love . . .
since we split apart
the memory that keeps recurring
is how she lost
the book I lent her
on relationships
how quickly
a match flares and dies—
can anyone
presume to calculate
the half-life of love?
Page updated
Google Sites
Report abuse