Thursday, December 5, 2013


You didn’t want to say anything.
You waited. When you spoke at the end
you could still hear the silence in between the syllables,
a blue glacier.

One of the few left. You felt glad.
It’s here now. You are walking on it,
each sentence swarming and dying into its solidity

so as not to let it melt.


Crafty Green Poet said...

I like that cold image of the glacier between words, very effective

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