Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Verse: silent tongues

armed with a hundred
tiny treacheries

they emerge
hungry and on fire

from their deep beds
to be with us

to probe
and penetrate

to flick and flicker
spark and supplicate

to write our names
in warm wet circles

and extinguish

in a sweet and
sudden celebration

leaving us to wipe
their fevered brows

cradle them and
make no sound

until we are certain
they are asleep

until we are certain
they cannot hear us.

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