In the grey sky, a blue wound:

This entry is part 3 of 28 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Winter 2014-15


as if what flesh once desired
found embodiment in this opening.

Sudden as epiphany, though not
earth-shattering— A square of paper
come to light again after many months

hidden in a drawer, inked lines
of handwriting. Despite such careful
unfolding, all that language

cannot dress beyond compression:
shimmer of what called our names
even after the curtain was drawn.


In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

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