Tuesday, December 2, 2008


At dawn there is the silence
of my vacant bed.

Muted sighs remember mid-length nails

digging into the small
of your back.

I used to wrap myself
in white linen. (I used to be just as

But this was when we used
to fit

Now the displaced realities

impress only incompatibility.

You are impossible to ignore.

I could hear you from across the room

even if you had whispered your "about that"

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