Wednesday, July 9, 2014

She told the stories long enough 
that she believed them herself,
words spilled sideways from her lips
as she spoke;
now and then 
I saw a glint of recognition as her eyes
met mine, but she moved on--
she always moved on--sideways,
did she hope I hadn't noticed
or not care if I did?

An oriole repeats
its lost mate's trill,
water climbs
back up the cliff,
the calendar reads
itself to sleep
and never finishes
the chapter.

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