she collected lost whispers,
discarded
sticky and round in their fullness
not unlike the residue of sex
around love,
[ she only found such once
maybe twice ]
and how the smell of it all
clung to her presence
born again
as she died by little misteps
and tremors
a happenstance truth -
missed only when folded back
to before
its intangible realness
manifest by her belief
in embedded promises
- that this truly
was how it is
or how it could
be again
Author notes
Edits: 4
A contest entry
- warm sounds. by girl shaman.
1000 points, ended April 21, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think (Critical Honesty Appreciated)
Comments
-
powerful stuff, Kate
love love love the lost whispers
how you gave them dimension
the folding
how much that fits
and how knowing you makes this very meaningful.
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