Paris, not Berlin, is Called the City of Lights

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The silence that you forced upon me shows

Me that I do not need you as my wife

Or spouse, whatever.  Truth about that grows

Around you like a shadow in my life

Now.  Thank you for that dark penumbra you

Are wearing where you are, twelve hours and more

Away by road.  Despite the distant view

That you’ve created, I can see the shore

Of our divorce because that bleakness pains

The air around it for a thousand miles

(Perhaps ten thousand).  Black light leaves its stains

On fools like me in unromantic isles.

  Eclipse away in your self-centered space

    Of pity, leaving me in my dark place.

~ Phillip Whidden