Thursday, February 4, 2010


Talk about the moon, the little
lights you thought were stars until,
one by one, they disappeared
like forlorn candles. Talk about
politics, religion, other things
you are unsure of, books with middle parts
forgotten, cousins you have not heard from
since the wedding, since the funeral,
since a Thanksgiving so long ago
you can't remember who was there.
Talk, they say, even if you have nothing
to talk about, because she is watching,
in awe of everything
because she is there, waiting
to listen

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