For Jane

225 days under grass
and you know more than I.
they have long taken your blood,
you are a dry stick in a basket.
is this how it works?
in this room
the hours of love
still make shadows.

when you left
you took almost
everything.
I kneel in the nights
before tigers
that will not let me be.

what you were
will not happen again.
the tigers have found me
and I do not care.

by Charles Bukowski

Comments (4)

Atmospheric, vivid. Makes me peep through that trembling window and reach for the the warmth in that cafe far beyond my reach and at the same time the wind makes me shiver. Beautiful!
An awesome write and highly enjoyable read.
dear ted, this is the haiku to your poem: night the shimmer of the city in the river
Haiku-like. 'the wintry city creaks like an ancient wooden bridge' is spot on. The syllables somehow sound like the thing they are talking about. This must be one of his best.