Your feeble eye can't imagine it:
the white of wrist under the
bathroom's single bulb,
the way the light is cast
down like an accusation.
I've learned to open marble
with no lock and no key,
but I will not tell you how.
Instead I'll just pretend it's
another of those things
you can only do once,
those clever ideas that
rise up out of the mire
but aren't strong enough
to keep from sinking again.
I'll be on the tile, prying,
while you bang on the
door, pleading. Save
your words, your blindness.
I'll never let you in.

10/05/2004

Posted on 10/06/2004
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