Eclipse / Home Again by Michael Keshigian

ECLIPSE

 

What darkness is this 

that infiltrates the golden air,

that even the reddest roses

are shaded and in the moment 

become ashen,

that my vision, as I peruse the landscape,

becomes a black door

closing quickly on the heavenly flame,

creating a world which

no one seeks, from which

no one returns,

a world toward which

everyone travels.

Clarity of choice and possibility

adjust themselves

to the change of venue,

an onset of the unknown

while the sun vanishes 

in the wake of floating debris

that ascends

from behind the serrated mountains, 

and a new world appears,

an infinite yet empty

claustrophobic tomb of black

that swallows reality whole,

becoming what all will remember.

 

HOME AGAIN

 

Abandoned house, are there 

only spiders and rodents

residing amid your rooms?

I see my distorted image

upon the fogged glass 

of the old storm door,

and feel like a prowler,

appraising the value of items

upon your walls

or tucked in your corners,

when, in truth, I seek

to rekindle precious memories 

and reconstruct pictures

the recent days

have begun to obscure,

events the rain of years

are washing away,

remembrances,

trickling indiscernibly  

through the pitted window 

of my mind’s eye

as I rap my fist

against the glass, 

hoping the ghosts will answer.

Michael Keshigian, from New Hampshire, had his twelfth poetry collection, Into The Light, released in April, 2017 by Flutter Press. He has been published in numerous national and international journals including Oyez Review, Red River Review, Sierra Nevada College Review, Oklahoma Review, Chiron Review and has appeared as feature writer in over  twenty publications with 6 Pushcart Prize and 2 Best Of The Net nominations. (michaelkeshigian.com)