wyolica's studio @ Melbourne

They say the first love's most important

That's very romantic

but not my experience.

Something was and wasn't there between us,

something went on and went away.

My hands never tremble.

When I stumble on silly keepsakes

and a sheaf of letters tied with string--

not even ribbon.

Our only meeting after years:

the conversation of two chairs

at a chilly table.

Other loves

still breathe deep inside me.

This one's too short of breath even to sigh.

Yet, just exactly as it is,

it does what the others still can't manage:

unremembered, not even seen in dreams,

it introduces me to death.