October 29, 2014

One poem by Tony Press


it is time
seal his lips

beside him
the beveled glass table
an empty paper cup, a straw,
journals, letters,
a magazine that once printed his poems
what once he knew

note the faded photo
discolored Kodachrome

then he was twenty
hair brown, eyes green
a maple leaf in spring
a wren taking first flight

no longer bound
to pleasures
to pain

no birth without death
brilliant dawn to solemn dusk
each breath an anniversary

decades of faith, fervor
grit and grace,
and fear
fear of solitude
fear of being known

fear no more

Tony Press lives near San Francisco and tries to pay attention. Sometimes he succeeds. His poems and stories can be found in about fifty journals, both online and in print, including The Lake, 34th Parallel, SFWP Journal, and JMWW.

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