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The Backbone FluteTo Andrey Kneller's previous piece     To Part IITo Part II


Separation

Life will one day return to normal.
Thereís nothing that time canít tame,
and her name, 
on the page of the daily journal,
will dissolve on the fiery tongue of the flame.
 
Somehow, Iíll have to adjust and forget her. 
Love is neither eternal nor constant. 
Weíve parted. 
Iím sure that itís all for the better.
Her features will fade with the russet sunset.
 
Why do I lie to myself? Itís never that easy.
My head is tolling like a church bell tower.
Bumping into the trees,
Iím coughing and wheezing,
and so far itís been only a half an hour.
 
The onlookers watch, not daring to help me...
Get out of my way, Iím a raging elephant!
Donít you hear how my soul is yelping,
gripping the bars 
of the trembling skeleton?
 
Donít you see how Iím stumbling, 
sad and wearied,
with the weight of affection around my ankle?
Clearly, itís love... clearly
itís love that has me this mangled.
 
Iím losing faith in the power of calendars,
time is no medicine for separation,
and hours scatter around 
like scavengers
eating, eating away my patience.
 
I must have a fever, Iím shaking and quivering,
Talking to no one, conversing out loud.
Isnít that her 
crawling across the ceiling?
hanging up overhead like a dismal cloud?
 
Iím hallucinating, I cannot escape her...
Leave me alone, donít you see Iím grieving?
Her smile appears on the face of my neighbor.
She mocks me and whispers to me, 
ďGood evening.Ē
 
People,
wherever I turn, she appears to follow.
On every face, I seem to notice her grimace.
Everywhere that I look, I can see her shadow.
Look, up there!
up in the sky, she shimmers...

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