Monday, April 30, 2012


At the end,  let our breath
speak, voiceless waves, and our eyes
always say what we mean, 
even when our voices are lying. 
I'm not afraid, he intones, even
though he's talking about dinner. 
But his eyes shift and I know
he's already fled. Instead of goodbye, 
my love, just breathe with me--float
through the fear. We'll use our forks
to fight off the monsters, 
imagined and real. Or go, yes, go. 
And miss another dawn covered in green
percale sheets, with the pink of sunrise
just peeking through. 

No comments:

Post a Comment