He moves me
His soft rain of syllables
Falls sweetly into cracked stone
Exumes the power to revive
Careless gestures of warmth
Add inches to me

His heart belongs to a shallow river
That he can't even begin to swim
But breath has left me
It gets lodged in my throat
And dies in my stomach

One word and a solid tower
Could turn to a wet sandcastle

11/13/2002

Posted on 11/14/2002
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