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From Year to Year

From year to year it grows only more subtle.
It’ll be so subtle in the end –
she said, and meant it.

But sometimes I feel I’m drowning in time,
I get the sense all along I’ve been drowning,
he muttered.

That’s only because you’ve been drowning, she said.
It’s only because you’ve been drowning, and know it.

I don’t know. Sometimes I think I have no more to give.
Subtle, you know, isn’t far from the negative.

I know, and applaud your discovery;
I applaud your eyes and their blue.
You don’t leave anything after you.

And that’s exactly what troubles me.
And that’s exactly what they’ll say when they mourn me.
That’s what I feel, exactly.

You’re wrong again: you feel fine and fineness surrounds you.
It’s already around, and you ride on its shoulders;
be patient and soon it will embrace you.
In the end, it will give you a kiss.
You know how it happens, like this.