Saturday, 19. March 2005
Unearthed
When silence falls, and as words
Are blinded of meaning by
A sudden flood, and as water of time
Continues to tunnel into memory,
This finger, tracing these loops Of words, leaning forward Into the light from the window Falling across this postcard,
Remembers the nape of your Neck, that bone curving into A note of a song under a dark Curtain of hair, and calls out Your familiar & distant name.
My Poems
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