I used to pound phrases
out of concrete slabs
away when I lived
under shady trees --
but I gave it all up
to be here tinkering
with you.
And I can't say I'm
better for the wear.
I can't say I'm
much more
than lonely;
but life doesn't
want me to leave,
not even
you.
If I sink down
through the space
of lives clashing
too long
I'll never find
a way to express
even my most
mundane fears.
Like,
I wish I could have
a cup of coffee,
and ease the ache --
get beyond this mess.
But that's not easy
to speak
in this fragile
place.
I should know
we're in trouble
when it takes
two
car trips
around the block
just to
gather the knowledge
to say
"I'm hurt."
Love isn't a blanket
or a wall of hope and trust
it's not much,
really,
compared to loss
except that it lingers
half as close.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
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2 comments:
I love the metaphor of the first three stanzas. The juxtapositions of concrete, trees, tinkering.
thanks! You know how old this piece is? I wrote it in 2003. Found it yesterday and couldn't believe how dead on it was... And COULDN'T believe I stayed with him all that time... yikes. I am dumb!
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