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Monday, August 27, 2012

What Words

Voices never seen
sing to you in whispers
chanting words near silent
thoughts as if to drown them

Nothing felt but trying
reaching through to nowhere
beyond the droning echoes
endless waves against the grain

Tables set too neatly
almost everything you need or want
except a certain something
that doesn’t fit the scene

Listen lightly hearing nothing
of what you know is surely there
forks and spoons and plates and saucers
in conversation with only air

Where do flowers leave their petals
on the days and nights left in-between?
the bed stand holds a vase of sorrow
too young to leave – too late to stay

I wish I knew what words to tell me
to fill the spaces beneath the noise
relief and pain are holding hands here
so much spent – so hard to say.