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Contributor: Art Heifetz

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How shall I remember you,
now that your birthday’s
drawing near?

By the timbre of your throaty voice,
your sighs and whispers
floating on
the sultry summer night?

By the scent of fresh croissants
at a copper-urned café,
of steam rising from
wet cobblestones,
of limp jasmine falling
on your moonlit hair?

By the pressure of your palm
as you guide me gracefully
across the polished floor,
the feel of musky skin
sticking to my chest
as we smoke our cigarettes
in post-coital bliss?

Is this what they mean
when they speak of
the afterlife?
Is this what they mean
when they speak of
love undying?

- - -
Ex-Peace Corp volunteer and retired insurance agent currently teaching ESL to refugees and writing poems, 36 of which have been accepted for publication since June in the US, Australia, France, Israel and Argentina.


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