Wintering

Persistence of Vision

I've a thousand resentments towards you.
Tomorrow there'll be a thousand and one -
one for each day since our parting began.
I can't see over them, stacked high and true.

Yet, I wish I'd slept for a thousand days
and woke to find no memory of you;
and in my music not a note of blue -
some vague form waving in a distant haze.

But I've misdeeds and tragedies enough
beyond hoping to redefine my years:
there, steeped in shadow, ever to regret,

here, edging up slowly, to dawn-deep tears.
Through robin rhapsodies, we must cry tough,
doomed to remember - till we do forget.