NOSTALGIA

by Ben Rasnic

In a smoky blue kerosene haze
illuminating the winding gray
tunnel vision of memory,

I recall only the tender whispers,
sweet comfort of companionship,
ardent frenzy of wild animal sex.

Strange how I forget
the excruciating thrust of flashing stiletto
you used to bludgeon

my better angels
just before they fell to Earth;
the hysterical laughter

you carried with you
into the dark shadows
that always seem to vanish
just before the dawn.