If I Could Whisper a Poem

May 10, 2010 § 4 Comments







If I could whisper a poem, I’d take it by the hand
and lead it out the door. We’d leave our rumpled, lazy bed
and tiptoe past the balcony; the salty breeze would strafe
my freckles fast and low. I would ask, “Can you smell it? Can you smell the sea?”
and it would nod its fragile head before it ducked behind the palm.
Later, we would stretch our toes in sand and bathe in foamy waves.
It would shyly tell me of its past: of six grade longings dipped
in sorrow, turns of phrase lost in the night, of feeling fragments
that splinter at a touch. And before we wandered back to bed,
the sun would turn and tip his face to brush us with his lashes.

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§ 4 Responses to If I Could Whisper a Poem

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