faintness of devotion
︎︎︎︎︎ Ian Gwin
︎Nov 8, 2023
as though regardless of us
voices close as
hair brushing your ear
or how wind never
rushes i remember
one less plainsong after epiphany
how the tumultuous roots of a cypress
took us to the lodged
headstone they unburied
how you pulled your scarf
over your mouth under the bluegrey
and asked if they were comfortable
here and when we walked there
to brush away bouquets again
of parched twigs from the verse
that ended with fresh showers
over fields
voices close as
hair brushing your ear
or how wind never
rushes i remember
one less plainsong after epiphany
how the tumultuous roots of a cypress
took us to the lodged
headstone they unburied
how you pulled your scarf
over your mouth under the bluegrey
and asked if they were comfortable
here and when we walked there
to brush away bouquets again
of parched twigs from the verse
that ended with fresh showers
over fields
Ian Gwin is a writer and translator from Seattle, Washington. He holds an MA in Scandinavian Languages and Literatures at the University of Washington. While he's currently translating the contemporary Latvian writer Andris Kuprišs, his own writing has been published in Drifting Sands, Kingfisher, and Mayfly Haiku.
Also by Ian: recounting silences