Writing

said

Poem • April 14, 2000


“I’m not sure what to do right now”
“then don’t do anything, until you’re sure”
“are you sure?” she said (through confused lips)

the door closed, only to open my eyes
to a world in which wrist watches
and clock watchers are replaced with open mics
and open minds and fragile finds between
the lines of poetry, of sheets, on a
comfortable bed

the cold air surrounded your house
only to surround us in a november cloth
the day you let me in to your home
your room, your basement computer of prose
and the door opened, only to close
your heart

“I’m not sure what to do right now”
“then don’t do anything, until you’re sure”
(through confused lips) she said
“are you sure?”


Notes

Originally published in Intentions: The Underground Literary Magazine #3.


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