The Work of American Poet Igor Goldkind


028d6dcf6c3a95a30b403cb00e3cb813Love is an Imperfect Sphere

to be found somewhere outside of your orbit

Beyond the reach promised by light,

the last kiss of a dying star.

It is after all, merely the shadow of a mass you once believed in

and now can barely recall.




That the sun that shines all around you, on the brightest and darkest of days

is somewhere still constant; somewhere still burning,

as fiercely as on its first day.



The shape of the shadow that passes o’er the bright child’s face,

Is the memory of all that you’ve lost.

The black spot where all that matters disappears to.

Celestial spheres

Poking your head through to the other side.

For all that passes this way passes you by.



For Suzanne,

June 9th, 2014



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