Those precious,
frayed sections
of time
Like newspaper clippings
in which you
and I
exchange
this clandestine dialogue
In an alien tongue no mouth has ever formed
These are those moments,
swift currents behind eyelids
And I long to hide myself
among the ink of your words
Like some skittish mollusk
too afraid to face the teeth of the world.
Like the hopeful,
pious
playing card
with a sword stuck in its head
Awaiting a hand
to
place
it
down
And I noticed,
after this,
it was only you who spoke the page
And I saw,
read,
and understood,
yet was nowhere in its making.
Copyright 2004 Endifference
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