One Poem by Blema Wolin

Partner to My Own
For William Matthews

I have an urge
To write the catechism
Of the infinite.

I want to reach
The space where
Leaves are unsteadfast.

In this season
Called remembrance
Remains a trace

Of joy. A sounded
Pulse of elation
Let loose before the moon.

I catch the tail
Of this vision
So personal I

Feel its shadow
Spirit partner
To my own.

At night, the wet street
Empty of crossings,
Rings hollow.

I step into that place
Where things go
To be forgot.

{Poem by Blema Wolin}