There
are words
forbidden
or
let’s say
of
the rather-not kind;
they
come to lip
and
back to throat
and
I wonder
in
these bovine days
if
I might slip
and
choke.
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One
story-flower to another,
anecdote
to anecdote
the
re-posting of favorite songs
finding
breathing-space moment
grudgingly
yielded by work-need
to
text about silly things
like
traffic and places to be,
things
to do and things undone
the
renewal of claims
in
different languages
and
summary dismissal
in
anticipated one-liners:
this
is our communion
our
covenant in said-unsaid mix.