Glück At Night

Photo by Gabriel Santiago on Unsplash

I have been reading Glück tonight.
Her images are sketched with words
that resonate — reverberate
within the center of my psyche.
There I reflect the silent shade
of her fictive and broken soul;
the fact there always seems to be
something to interrupt his words
(or, at least to slow them down).
Why some shape that intervenes?
Could it be that damned tree
that altered his trajectory
and is forever interposed
in her haunting and lyric prose?

To support the poet’s benign coffee addiction: Coffee.