To Speak

I am a lifetime of living rooms
each with a orange couch
with the strings starting to show;

and a seventies shag carpet,
with the tramped down trail
that leads to the kitchen.

I am hiding.
Behind bookshelves, tearing,
looking to feed the fire.

You won’t notice the last
page is missing until
later.

I am a lifetime of living rooms
where each word must be written twice
to be sure that my shadow is intact,

that I haven’t fallen for the sin
of an unfinished book,

to sing a Hail Mary (full of grace)
against a broken screen,

and a dirge for all the stars we will
never see.

The sound of a signal lost is no sound at all.

I am a lifetime of living rooms,
the tall candle stalk the corners.
A sphere of radiating, free from
the axis of the walls .

This is no longer where the dying sit,
where the absence of life
is contrast over coffee.

I am brim filled, klatch broken.
My heart filled with indebted curios

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2 thoughts on “To Speak

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