Wednesday, October 31, 2007

As if By Sea

[There is something in narcoleptic surrender, something in the words you long to say; if only briefly, it is enough to stay awake...]

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Speak to me, Tesoro,...
should I write the words that
you think might someday make
us famous?

I slip past your lips tonight,
find myself deep inside, where
each second, I witness you for
the very first time, where you
cannot sleep, where I carry your
name, tangled on my tongue.

For a moment, I rest in the deep
of your throat. Beautiful and low,
I pull each breath with a stern
finger, your voice impels from
the chest—something pushing


And there is no frame to this leg
room, no faith free of distance.
I wish you were really here.

But these two hands alone, cannot
pass the ocean that rises, splits
these words to a scatter.

And soon it will be against the nape,
its salt thickening my own tongue
to a silence.

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