These awkward words
lips only wish
they had the guts
to speak. Phrases
that cannot slip
across the teeth,
tied, as they are
to nearby brain
cells, which fire
constant volleys
of cold ideas,
and remind you
of all the folks
these words would hurt.
Those awkward words,
what hands can say,
residing close
to the body,
the hips and thighs
and by the heart,
hands that harbor
no quid-pro-quo
with these neurons,
nor memories,
nor sense of right.
So they can speak,
painful, hopeful
realities.
What awkward words
must certainly
follow “I’ve quit”
or “I’m leaving?”
Lips long to say:
in another time,
a different place,
where lives were not
tangled in cells
of promises,
I would want to
love you. There. Spoke.
Those words only
brave hands can say.
–
email: p3podcast@mac.com
phone: 70 425 Poems
