Volume II, Issue III Autumn 2003


Gordon Gilhuly has published two full-length books of poetry with Borealis Press: "Not Having Constructed My Ark" and "Every Poem is a Love Poem." He is also the writer of an award-winning one-act play, "Coming Into Rooms."


        in the softness of candles
                           it is not your face that
                   I remember but your
                                     grace you are thin ribbons
                           spirals of a silver/grey
                   borealis you moving
                                     through space you
                           against always against
                   black absence of colour
                                     backdrop for your vitality
        your essence always there is
                           a spotlight you are the
                   only dancer you are
the dance the double
        helix of my life
                   you are gone the
                                     air mourns
        your lightness
                           becomes vacuum
                   at the inquest

Untitled two

        in the tomb light
                           of silent candles
                   in the void of
                                     your nonexistence
        is a new shape this
                           is a new dance the
                   ribbons opaque these new
                                     spirals obtuse as inexplicable as
        loss where are you gone
                           what is the
                   DNA of death
                                     clouds who cannot emulate
        you mourn your passing at
                           the post mortem


        beyond death flickering lights
                           obsess me vigil
                   candles for the quick and
                                     the dead
        their heat divides the world
                           in two the black/white
                   simplicity in the syncopation
                                     in the schizophrenic dance
        of rising and falling
                           you are gone
                   and in the darkness
                                     only the truthful
        and efficient stars can see
                           to mourn as you pass
                                     beyond the light


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