I am stone

I am stone,
    A large boulder, perhaps; a dry elk
Of unreflective intent;
        An inadvertent man, oak-face
Hollowed, legs stolid and impassive to a
Series of abstract incidents;
                        A café-sitter,
An hour at each; an impatient portrait of
The perfunctory wait—they are so very late
But it does not matter. Not one bit.
                    There is no angst
In the antedate (and the bliss above
And the shade of hell
And the dramatic colours of that farewell
                After a certain delay...)
Nor in the will to resume, to reanimate
The brows, the eyes, the lips, the cheeks
    Of a paler state;
'Tis in this sense the loss was incipient and
Truly inarticulate.

Dale Chou
2006-10-11