Confusion is a beautiful barrier,
a sound that's soft in the mouth,
but jagged just enough to notice.
Who wants to be held then heard,
heard then held, pain and triumph
cross-stitched so tightly, the seams don't show?
Who wants their fear to be seen whole,
then redrawn, shape for jagged shape, from memory?
I want to know who's whole.
I want to know whose thin fingers
are wrapped around my fear.
I know this is sloppy, but I want to know
whose time is stretched from my window to theirs.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
like honey dripping from the tongue. so sweet, so sad too. i always enjoyed your earnest poetry no matter how esoteric or raw. take care now amiga. keep up the scholarly work.
ReplyDelete