Solitary Candle

 

I hope you will remain patient while my computer and I continue our recovery from our latest adventure/misadventure ... I think the computer's working right, now (although the counter doesn't seem to be counting ... it stood at 40,164, yesterday morning) ... and that I am, too.

Oh, I still bump into furniture ... misplace my car keys (there they ARE ... in my OTHER pocket) ... trip on cracks in the sidewalk. You know, the kinds of ordinary things that ordinary people do as they pick their way through the fog of the day.

And I think I can once again see the light at the end of the tunnel. I have hopes of picking up the threads of the "conversation" we have going here ... of actually catching up on my responses to your posted comments (and I do find them helpful, energizing ... essential).

Once again, my apologies for falling so far behind. 

And now, if this machine is really working properly, today's poem:

 

SOLITARY CANDLE

My candle sculpts

itself in its corner

of the room, flame

gyrating in the draft,

tiny avalanches

of wax slithering

into the maw,

a fungible, seething

mass that labors

back up the wick

to sacrifice itself

as a bit of light,

distant warmth. It

flickers, warning me

that I shall soon miss

the warmth, its quiet

companionship, gently

flowing memories, its

solitary, sustaining

work of holding

the darkness at bay.

© 1996

(originally published in Anterior Poetry Monthly)

***

Today's word: fungible

Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:

Thanks for stopping by again, Helen ... and I'm glad you like the imagery.