' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' Leaving Now The Past

Time bound
herein

scored upon
this flesh

the flash of white.

No silver
no gold

only the ghost
of a ring

haunting the finger
of the left hand.

Its presence
inherent in

(its...absence) .

Time branded
by this uncovering of flesh


(not seen since they wed)

blinding white
against the tan

holding his hand
within his hand

hiding
this mark of time

leaving now the past
...behind.

by Dónall Dempsey

Comments (2)

What's the theme of this poem?
...and a primal one at that: -)