Sunday, December 18, 2016

Were you going to write me a love-letter?

One of those  poems I come back to occasionally. It  changes each time:  the words, the  meaning and the atmosphere. Some poems defy you; that's good.




Were you going to write me a love-letter?


Did your fingers falter above the keys?
Was there the cacophony of grid-lock on the page,
lines of off-duty taxis:
words refusing to carry love?

At such a juncture, I, in the past, have let my fingers
tap-dance away from a love-letter,
tap a stammer,
morse to garble the unwritable truth.

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