How we write
Is steps through hushing leaves, each footfall tempered
By the slowly sifting knowledge that each has passed
Its zenith, this leaning on a moment where breaths
Are caesurae dividing the daylight until night falls
Sometimes rain spatters the pages, the spreading words
Translating tears upon the papery ground
A meaning slips into my pocket like your big hand
Warming my thigh; as though the connection
Of syllables is a sublime erotic contemplation
Of this you will know nothing
Scratching your name again, again
Inking a useless stone.
Veronica Aldous All rights reserved 2016
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