AFTERMATH
for B.B.H.
That woman you loved, the one you pine for,
she’s gone. It’s over. The past has swallowed it.
Likely you will never see her pretty face again.
That is all right. Why is it all right? Because
the mountains are flowing away like water
and all things pass away, tangent to eternity.
—from Rattle #58, Winter 2017
__________
Jamey Hecht: “I live in L.A. where I teach, write, and practice psychotherapy. I hope one day to return to my homeland of Brooklyn. My more ambitious poems try to unite the public, the private, and the cosmic, because if epic poetry is dead (which it may not be) then some lyric poetry must take up that task or else the world will fall apart. Also, I was born on 5/13/68, right between the CIA-and-police murders of MLK (4/4/68) and RFK (6/5/68).” (web)
