July 08, 2007


The things one is afraid to say
are also the things everyone else
is afraid to say. Ten people lean
on a bar, chatting and drinking,
each rough-edged fragments of themselves,
howling coyote souls under sedation,

yet to themselves and each other
as complete as any rock or chair.

When the anesthetic wears off
suddenly, alone in a room
full of gesticulating furniture,
one knows an agony no rock could bear.

Then, to release from stone faces
a trickle to quench desperate thirst,
one strikes terrible blows
that destroy mere flesh.

I too am parched, but I am commanded
only to speak to the rock. It will --
knowing then what can be said --
give forth water.

—Dean Blehert

Posted by dwaber at July 8, 2007 01:45 PM