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once the quiet entered him he could not talk. he awoke in nights battling wars, the clamor of speech not ebbing while he whispered into the dark.
there were knots of words he'd saved, he wonders where they got lost.
days of years spent rummaging through crowds, looking for that one face that would hear him out, and now in this pocket of land he's found - those small ears and restful arms - and forgotten how
to hollow his throat and let out
a caress a kiss a call.
she collects his words in her cupped palms, falling lightly on the blooming ground. like a shocked butterfly the night enters her mouth, flutters out without a sound.
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| | Posted 5/13/2008 2:18 AM - 35 Views
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