Poem for Franz
It’s a time of blood from stone
I can be found sitting in the snow in my library with a lap full of books
Their weight is heavy, the light is long, and time thin.
The day wants to close like a winter weed
as the sun collapses into the street.
I always knew this would happen.
It’s just so damn hard finding myself
under all these poems.
Eugene Goldin is a poet living in New York. His poems have appeared in The American Aesthetic, and Jokes Review and will soon be published in The Gorge Literary Journal.