August 6, 2008
By Nicole Burdakin, Roswell, GA

A herd passes, but I linger; You stand (to the) right

as my feet glue (to) the floor.

I match your smile [white] wishing this (could have)

happened before

(now). Irises fixate on yours, touching (for) the first time.

Your arm molds (into) my back, warm.

Brushing [a hand] lightly, I skim the

cotton (weave) in sporadic (jolts) folding into my arm.

A blink and shudder : A

faded smile as the crease at your eyes smoothe

Your hold relents, and you slip from my fingers.

My tongue catches (on) the roof of my mouth—

stutter shake my lips (which) fail to produce sound.

'B-' is lost, and the only thing we (are) left is one long (e)ye
(all along)>

we part.

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