Have you noticed my pause / are you piercing
the space / conscious of the see-saw?
Am I walking through your seminary ghost, or do
those huge brown eyes lure from another cell?
Is there affinity in our shared history of detention
or merely our vulnerability -
a surface tension that
rapes the moment?
My hands are sweaty on the keys,
I tire at the filling of the script -
are you an actor
am I?
2013
(I've been reworking poems, meeting with Ann and Diane who are keen editors and responders. Encouraging. Inspiring, I find more draw to the process of writing.)
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