Sunday, October 13, 2013


The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton

Sorrow holds me close inside this empty bed,
submerged under these restless covers -

it will not let me dream beyond its reach,
its jagged edges of nightfall.

We are as intimate as two strangers can be, I suppose -
we rarely speak and never ask too many questions.

We turn from side to side, avoiding each other's eyes 
from experience and fear.

Do not weep for me in my predicament -
I would never have known these unbearable depths
without the heights that preceded 

this fall from grace.