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Marsha Singh Aug 2011
these things are best written about later,
when you could be anyone, and I can lie
(as heartsick yet composed narrator)
about small things, like *'I really tried.'
Marsha Singh Aug 2011
The last time I saw
you was in a parking
lot in January. You
were in town for your
father's funeral; my
oranges had tumbled out
of the cart and into
the snow and it was
really very
pretty.
Marsha Singh Aug 2011
stupid poetry.
stupid hope.
Marsha Singh Aug 2011
When you are over me,
I'll pluck my poems from your hair
and shake them from your sheets;
I'll take longer than I should.
Marsha Singh Aug 2011
without you, i am sans serif –
unfinished still, a half-etched glyph.
you are my pitch; i write for this –

each arc and shoulder loops and dips
towards the softest landing of your lips.
Marsha Singh Jul 2011
now I'm a shipwreck in a sundress,
an aimless, shameless coquette –
a first kiss, a second guess,
a weak and wobbly pirouette.
Marsha Singh Jul 2011
O useless sky – you disappoint,
brood mutely as I weep and curse;
you've had eternities to meditate, yet
I think of all the answers first.
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