Friday, March 21, 2008

part I

I borrowed
a memory,
a fraction
the weight of two black
the winter coat.

three beads of blue
berries on my tongue


there were never enough
wild flowers,
never enough
daisies. But,

the unfamiliar maps
an empty stage where players wait
the cobalt blue curtains,

they part
and it all seems
close enough.

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