There are some who might notice,
and some who might wonder
what's inside;
there are among us
the indifferent, the curious and bold.
they are those who strayed inside
some who stayed a while
and some that ran away.
Among these visitors
were those who stripped
my meager rooms
of things precious and inconsequential,
those who stamped immortality
with a word, a touch
a look
or a moment of shared breath,
and those who left no trace
of passing through.
And then there is a singularity that stops
walking without movement,
arrivals made
of steps taken in another direction;
words that move in the air
reconfiguring sentence
at the slightest breath of wind,
and I have asked myself,
'Who is she
that can with such grace
rob door, heart, sensibility,
longing, hurt and everything else
of all given meaning
and metaphorical extrapolation?'
[From my collection 'Threads,' shortlisted for the Gratiaen Award 2007]
LEAVE A COMMENT
No comments :
Post a Comment