Susan's Blog

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Home

A tired bedtime fight
I fell asleep through some of our words
which tore open a crisp white envelope
and made a paper cut in your heart

Throat dry, eyes wet
Nothing more to be done?
Can’t/won’t?
Hope collapsing in my chest, pressing me to just give up.

Something about morning light
And the quiet, cold house
Where ordinary stretches to greatest heights
And you, so familiar, every mole and hair now a tiny reassurance
Your coffee flavored mouth
my breakfast.

posted at 8:21 pm 1 comment

1 comment

You need to come to open mic in my town and read your poems.

— added by Anonymous on Thursday, December 21, 2006 at 10:44 pm