RAYMOND CHANDLER AND HIS WIFE
This poem, which first appeared in WRENCH, was republishedin Now Culture, Spring 2011
"It is the autumn of my
fear of being alive and
alone. My wife who was
my candle is now death’s
discolored bone. I, who
wrote six novels, am a
soft unpublished
moan."
As always, very precise language, rhythm and striking imagery.
Thanks, Berit!
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