Monday, August 11, 2014


And I woke up when you smiled.
Standing up I followed curves on the river,
I phoned long distance at nights,
I heard your voice on the radio, from the speaker at work,
behind sirens on friday nights.

we danced in the kitchen uncountable tangos,
innumerable salsas and sambas and other tunes
of high mountains.

We wept when baby died,
and we sat the table for afternoon coffees,
tea and biscuits: old friends. Lovers.
Silently, now. Still.

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