Listen

Poetry is definitely not in my comfort zone – so this is absolutely what I call “travel.” Even though I have an MFA in Creative Writing, I’m a prose writer, not a poet (despite the fact that I have an unattended-to haiku blog). Sometimes words come to me that are not part of whole prose story, like the words below.

 

Sometimes I think
while I’m walking these streets late at night,
maybe I will pass our ghosts, young and free,
wandering, squandering the gray sidewalks and night air together.

And I when I do, I would grab your elbow,
lean into you and say,
“This is all you want.”
I would dance my fingers along the ghost of my collarbone,
gently move the hair from my shoulder
and whisper in my ear,
“You have everything.”

And still, we would not listen.

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