Monday, February 28, 2011

The Speeches

I cannot
speak about this morning
I could not
speak this morning.

Black with bliss and
alone is early day.
Sky slides to light
after that I cannot talk.

Promises are spatial
words partial, outbid,
like unsexed spittle.
Words dare not bend.

Could I be more surprised
if the faces of my children
had changed at end of night--
I cannot talk.

I cannot.
Some words have wings
monstrous and clamorous,
wild as swans

that alight, fly awry
If I had no need for words
for all words to wait, watch
I would never want at all.

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