Keith Farnish

“Waking After The Fall

The deepest red,
Crosshatched with sleep;
The drowse like a heavy quilt.
A warm pulse and a twitch,
Then a hand
Upon my arm.

The merest glint:
Stars and stripes of light;
Empires of memory lie undisturbed.
What was there then?
Though now
We have this.

A stealthy shift;
Patting feet on clay,
Carefree with youth, not careworn.
Take me forward,
Not back,
Not ever”