every word he said with a long wave of
ink that drowned the sound of his voice
and washed away all traces
of his hands.
It was as if I was wrapping him up in a word
and sending the package somewhere far away,
as if I was losing claim to his heart
the minute I began to say
what he meant to me.
So, of course, I stopped and began to put the words
back into my heart where they belonged,
taking up each letter carefully,
wiping away the tarnish of ink
on the sheen of sound.
Afterwards, pasting in the torn pages, recovering
as much as possible, I read it over
again and again the way one does,
realizing, then, the sad
No comments:
Post a Comment