November 10, 2007

poems

itís funny
we speak
nod our heads
and smile
but our only form of conversation is through poems
words that weave and float and fly

deciphering is required
but often thereís no time ó
there are buses to catch
movies to watch
drinks to drink
and the house needs a good spring cleaning

I hear the poems
but how will I know if Iíve understood your metaphors
and you, mine?

when I say
I walked into the room

what part will you understand?

when you say
my breath disappears from view

what will it mean to me?

—Helen Boettcher

Posted by dwaber at November 10, 2007 12:40 PM