Sunday, June 11, 2017

The Night Batman Died, We Talked




The night Batman died, we talked.
You told me that the boulder that stood between us
had been removed and had left a hole
in your world and you fell in.
The shadow of an ogre blotted out
the January sky.

Long ago, I found you sitting in Saint Paul’s
in front of the statue of Saint Therese.
You said you were cold
after marching in the streets of Paris
against the war
in Iraq.

After that, you gave me a small,
blank notebook.
I scribble in it and fill it with words, incantations
and prayers. Batman has put away his indigo mask.
I have put away mine. The ogre is gone.
You broke the spell.









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