Tuesday, August 11, 2009



Even by the sea,
This heavy air barely
Moves at all.

I'm waiting here for you
As I'm always waiting:
choking on my own hot breath,
Crab in a puddle, left behind
By the tide, thirsty for new water.

Couples walk on the cobblestones, passing me.
My body's wires and pulleys, slumped
Against this wall.
What I have is a red stain
On my rags; it's been wrung out now.

Yet once if you said one word ah then
If you but looked at me that way
As you used to do, or smiled at me,
Or called me in that old familiar way
Blood would spring from the stones
In my heart and this puppet
Would dance-

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