(not While You Were in Ireland)
For you,
He Who Doesn’t Like Poetry,
Here’s a short one
That I vow I will not
Read aloud.
You are my
Inward breath,
The one I take
At the crest of every
Steep hill,
Ready to descend.
You are my
Exhalation,
The one I release
When Elliott’s voice
Reminds me
Of another tenuous life.
You aren’t only there
Where you are,
But you are here
Where I am,
Breathing.
Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 9:56 AM UTC
(not While You Were in Ireland)
For you,
He Who Doesn’t Like Poetry,
Here’s a short one
That I vow I will not
Read aloud.
You are my
Inward breath,
The one I take
At the crest of every
Steep hill,
Ready to descend.
You are my
Exhalation,
The one I release
When Elliott’s voice
Reminds me
Of another tenuous life.
You aren’t only there
Where you are,
But you are here
Where I am,
Breathing.
October 2010