A couple holds out
a large white
sheet between them.
They stand erect,
arms out wide
with a corner
of the sagging sheet
in each hand.
They’re looking at
each other. She moves
her mouth and both
of them close
their arms.
She shows him
how to slide his hand
down to
the crease and pull
it up. He moves
his hand, she,
her lips and they fold
again.
Now they stand
a long time holding
the long rectangle
between them, saying
one or two words
at a time.
Now they turn the sheet
up--a short, white road
between them–and wait.
She nods and they both
take two long
fast steps to each other
and clasp hands, each still
looking at the other,
like they just might
let the sheet
drop.
I'm back to writing a poem every day, whether they stink or not.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Blog Archive
-
▼
2005
(72)
-
▼
November
(18)
- Wishes
- Panic and Scream and Cinnabar
- Your Poem
- Couple at the Laundromat
- Change of Plans
- Soldier's Feet
- Silly Poem About Existence
- Parsley
- While Walking Downtown with My Daughter
- Strawberry
- Meeting Place
- Nine Years Old, Visiting Gene DeGruson's House
- Elementary School
- Missing Words
- Many Ways
- Dead Bird
- Tribute
- Awakening
-
▼
November
(18)
No comments:
Post a Comment