![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivVY4qxKkStbvlFhy35Ad5pQddUdL350j6HUrI90DFZb6VzVcnwb2i5CE6gXcrGuMJA9pAgJ8gSD6CB9pAjQwspe4EXLteP2hXXdh7j66N6cl3j11ZDS4V7rBctu2k2U76Uzcam5okhF4/s280/PersonattheWindow.jpg)
Painting by Salvador Dali
Poem for my one-legged lover, the wine glass, no. 50
Our last meeting,
Two ashes touched.
I gazed at her,
But she did not see me.
I held her hand,
But she had no hands.
She wore black gloves,
Empty, filled with words.
I watched my embrace leave my body,
Stand with its face to the wall.
Although she is by me,
She is in a shop window.
My tears look for her tears,
My tears find themselves alone.
Duane Locke
Posted over on Electric Acorn
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