Your face
a luminous clay vessel
drawn into
another realm
expressing edges
from your cosmos
of what has been
of what was seen
of what was experienced
of what is felt
of what only you can know
…and not know
…and lost?
and I must wonder
should I, as you
maybe at this moment
“In full forgetfulness, seek for my former trace.”
—last line from To the Artist (1924) translated by Yevgeny Bonver
HOMESCHOOLING MOTHER OF 5, ALL THINGS DOMESTIC, MY CRAZY LIFE
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Lifesaving Poems
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(poetry and other stuff, but mostly poetry)
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a roominghouse for the servants of the duende
pea river journal 
Reblogged this on Beauty's Invitation and commented:
I wrote this poem in response to the print of Anna Akhmatova I received in the mail from Pea River Journal. Seeing an image of someone’s face and looking for traces of the person and realizing that the traces – the markings of one’s living – are everywhere.