Tuesday, November 04, 2008



Speak to me like you spoke nuzzling
as the fireworks quit echoing
and the smoke cleared.
Tell me what you said when the ducks
paddled toward the bread we threw.

Whisper what I felt when your soft hand
on mine, squeezed.
Shiver like you did before I wrapped
your own jacket ‘round your frame.
Feel what made you throw it from you

Tell me again, how Hopper speaks to you.
Show me that shadows are what words
want to be. When I take that book
from the shelf, recite to me the first sentence
as you turn to the night
and lift a glass to your lips.

Tell me what I already know
but want to hear now,
and keep hearing, until I am long dead.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

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