May 24, 2010


Written by Alex Dimitrov

Read by D.A. Powell

I keep a note
a friend left in a book of photos:

lavender light over the snow flats —

and I wonder if he used it in a poem,
or if seeing, if the pleasure, was enough?

Now that you and I aren’t lovers,

I notice how the light at times
will race up your obedient body,

and reveal the flame I looked for —

the life I said I saw,
and hoped would be enough.