Because you
came here dressed as a man,
in a shirt.
Because things keep slipping.
Shifting distinctions.
Hiding your desire for
alike.
Left adrift
you venture your throat
to a word that tightens
around the sounds you might
produce.
You surrender to your own story,
told. Mothlike
hands wide, slow
flapping,
in and
out.
An imprint held.
Curved like a bone.
Leading edge to foil.
To reveal where thoughts are
sinking.
A last glimpse,
until
it bores its way out.
2 comments:
Sometimes I long for the MySpace facility here, of simply leaving 2 kudos.
After reading a poem, letting it wash over me and sink in ... I don't always want to find things to say about it, but just let it sit within me a while.
This might be the greatest appreciation – but leaves you without feedback.
Oh well, 2 kudos for everything here since last I commented.
That's one of the best comments I've ever had.. Thank you so much Rosemary!
A.Joy
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