Rod

by Gerard Malanga

The sunset coalescing.
The twilight waiting waiting patiently.
Those commingling voices snagged in some forlorn vista.
So many images waiting your return,
your gifts transcending you.
A magic unexplained, confusing.
Those dreams that have eluded you.
You would’ve been more at home, but where,
                                                              wide–eyed and remembering.