October 28, 2020
Ziplock like a censor
Promising to hide
Ziplock like a curse, or a curtain
Behind your mouth
What flows through
or isn’t flowing
through you? I need to know
Through you, I need to know
Why the old room floods cold
No New England snow
Just a porcelain vase
breaking quietly
under quiet flowers
You harbour me and all my rivers
I shed and I shed, distressed
I peel my quiet flowers, for you
I place them by your nightlight, here
Why must you go so far?
Your room elongates
The infinite tunnel, the myth
no telephone line can reach
My fingers twirl around
An imaginary line coiling like a serpent
SssSssSssSssS
S for Suspicion, S for Sometimes
But mostly S for the Sadness
that breaks through the warmth
of the winter sun.
Underneath it we stand so far apart.
What is over there
that you cannot show me?
