I wrote this a long time ago, but the feeling that it’s unfinished kept plaguing me, making me go back and question each scene, each word, a thousand times. I wanted it to be perfect, to speak perfectly in Saren’s voice, the voice I hear so clearly in your writing, dear MA, but know I can never reproduce. This one is entirely for you: both inspired by and dedicated to.
In November, the hours are slower;
winding down weather, the fresh lather
of a first snow. The winter,
with its months of hospital afternoons
waits huddled just over the border.
And ice will make all the distances
that much further. Speak now, kiss now
before the river freezes altogether.