Then
The slow movement – so slow; now in recollection;
Like a shadow of the unseen moving away
From the present in the past; a shadow
That got snagged in the memory and can’t
Be released; this image of you, this near absence
Internalized and turned from image to thought-stopped
From that pause to calm expansion of time.
That moment; figure frozen in flow from –
Away from for now and now for then;
The prelude to it warmly unspoken
The sequel in abeyance cooly prolonged
But in that foreshortened and so still
Still now and then your eyes leading you
And mine like a hole into which you’d fallen.
---- Big Frank Dickinson
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