Wednesday, September 21, 2005

the wait

woolen blankets are a solid weight
holding my arms and legs
in a warmth i take
no comfort from.

each breath
in/out
a deliberate act
thought about, planned.

with each breath
a different memory
one in the rise of my chest
another in the falling.

my eyes, painful, unblinking
a dry, hard stare
single minded focus piecing
grey motes into outlines in the dark.


waiting for the
ringing of the phone,
telling me your breath has stilled
your memories gone into the night.





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