Seven Letters

May 11, 2011
Forgive me
for exhaling surrender
when the cellist
strung his bow
through my heartstrings
pulled them
too close to his own
bursting vessel streets

Forgive me
for digging coal from our
memory treasure chest
to try to understand
why things fell apart
then putting them back
on top of our diamonds

Forgive me
for dripping kisses
into the Atlantic
with my salty eyes
while you carried me and
walked across water
to show me
London's bright lights

Forgive me
for blotting out sun
with a torn fingernail
until its warm rays
could not grace
my pale face

Forgive me
for waddling like geese
across the lawns
of your Lake
pecking at your crumbs
without saying
"Thank you"

Forgive me
for holding water pails
above wilting roses
while those in bloom
crane their stems
to toss one bead of water
down their necks.

Forgive me
for trying to be Superwoman
flying off the edge
with an origami cape
that cannot
fold into sails,
for letting the wind
pull tears from my eyes
to water unfertilized stars,
but I swear:
if you forgive me
for disappearing,
I promise
I will be reborn.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback