The Poetry of Simple and Forgotten Things

Marcel Rieder

The poet is a man who lives at last by watching his moods. An old poet comes at last to watch his moods as narrowly as a cat does a mouse.

— From Thoreau’s Journal

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NO MORE.

It will be no more

no more

we will not live together

I will not raise your son

I will not sew your clothes

I will not have you at night

I won’t kiss you when you leave

you’ll never know who i was

why did others love me.

I will not get to know

why or how never

nor if it was real

what you said it was

nor who you were

nor what I was for you

nor how it would have been

to live together

want each other

wait for us

be.

I am no longer who I am

forever and you

nYes

you will not be for me